


The Darkness that Defines You

by issabella



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) RPF
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Napoleonic Wars, Alternate Universe - Regency, Demons, M/M, RPF, Resolved Sexual Tension, Romance, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-01-20
Updated: 2013-07-07
Packaged: 2017-10-29 20:37:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 132,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/323934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/issabella/pseuds/issabella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James, Earl of McAvoy is one of many diplomats sent from Britain to the German States to ensure that they will build a united front against the threat of Napoleon’s invading army. But on his travel from one court to another, he gets lost in the unfamiliar land. He finds himself on the doorstep to the mansion of the arrogant and inhospitable Fürst Michael von Fassbender.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by some pics of James Mcavoy in Becoming Jane and Michael Fassbender in Hex I mixed together. The little idea soon turned into a full blown plot.
> 
> Not betad, I’m not a native English speaker, so there probably will be mistakes. Feel free to point them out to me, so I can correct them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 12.3.2012 - Chapter 1 now edited! Thanks to Ember for the beta, hope I didn't miss anything!  
>  Any remaining mistakes my own!

 

Snow crunched under his boots, snow covered the trees surrounding him, snow obscured anything that might have been a path or road. James, Earl of McAvoy, stopped for a moment to look back the way he had come. It still pained him, having to leave his poor horse behind. Slipping on a patch of ice, hidden under the treacherous snow, it had fallen so badly that it hurt its leg. Riding was no longer possible, and as he tried to lead it by the reigns, it became quickly apparent that it couldn’t even hobble along. He should have put it out of its misery, but he just couldn’t. Perhaps the leg wasn’t really broken; there was nothing that indicated that that he could see. If he could only find some sort of settlement he might still be able to get help. Or at least he tried to console himself that way. It would have been fairer if he had broken a leg in the fall. It was his fault they ended up in this miserable place in the first place. And anyway, at least the horse would still be able to carry him, but not the other way round.

James licked his dry lips. He never thought of himself as one as those soft - bred English lowland gentleman. He was used to riding through rough terrain, he had good orientation skills, proven often while riding through the inhospitable countryside of the Scottish highlands. If he hadn’t felt so guilty about his horse he would have been mortally embarrassed to lose his bearing so completely. Not only that but he couldn’t find his way back, come hell or high water, not even with the help of the map he had. Although he wouldn’t put it past it to be horribly outdated anyway, and more hindering than helping him in finding his way back to the right road. If one could even speak of proper roads in this godforsaken part of the world fate had chosen to land him in.

Cursing softly, he turned back in the direction he had come from. How had he managed to disgrace himself in the eyes of the king that had sent him to this horrible, uncivilised, wild land as a diplomat? All right, it was probably just because he was Scottish and some of the king's advisors thought it the perfect ‘punishment’ for simply that fact. Not to mention he had the impertinence of not staying  in Scotland, but daring to make his way at court.

There were some interesting cities on the continent he wouldn’t have minded going to. St.Petersburg, Prague, Lisbon, Venice, the admittedly somewhat provincial capital of the Habsburg empire, Vienna; but no, he was dumped into the middle of a rough assembly of counties and principalities that went under the name of ‘the German states’. The only thing they really had in common was their harsh sounding language and their greed for power. And snow. Never forget the snow. As if conjured by his thoughts, big flecks of the stuff started tumbling out of the sky, slowly but surely starting to obscure the prints his boots had made, the only sure sign of the path he had taken.

James took off his hat and glared up at the sky. “What’s next? A snowstorm? Am I to freeze to death or be eaten by wolves. I wouldn’t be surprised, if there are still some roaming these forsaken woods!”

Behind him a branch creaked ominously. James whirled round, but there was nothing there. He let go of the breath he hadn’t even been aware he was holding, put his hat back on and started walking again, in the opposite direction of where he had come from.

+++

The winter night came early. For once James was glad of the snow. It had stopped flurrying and the sky had cleared enough for a full moon to light the white world around him. It was almost beautiful. But the cold that had slowly crept through James’ clothes and boots (made for riding, not walking) let him linger only for a short moment on beauty. He had come across something that might be a wide road, big enough to allow a carriage to pass through the forest. He hoped it would lead to a village, a farm ... any inhabited place, really. Even a robber's cave would do. As long as they shared their fire and some food with him, they could gladly help themselves to what money he had.

The road sloped uphill, and the forest started to thin as he reached the hilltop. Panting heavily, James felt his hopes rise. The road he was on seemed to veer off to the left, and in the moonlight he could make out a wall, and in it, a huge iron gate. An exhausted laugh escaped him and he headed straight for the first sign of civilisation he had encountered since the early morning.

Past the gate, which he found unlocked, his feet carried him through what may have been an orchard or park. It ended suddenly at a huge courtyard, snow piled in the middle of it, almost obscuring the fountain in its middle. It was encircled on three sides by a sprawling building, only two stories high, but imposing nonetheless. The snow made its roof shine in the moonlight, while the building itself seemed dark.

James gritted his teeth. What if this was just some hunting chateau and no one lived here now. No, a place this huge, there had to be at least some caretaker in residence. Someone who had a fire going. He followed the path that led to the main door, just then noting that it was cleared. His heart rose again and he hastened his pace. He no longer wasted time on courtesies, put a foot down on his worries, and simply tried the iron door handle. To his relieve he found it unlocked, the door swinging smoothly open.

He stood in an entrance hall, the only light coming from the moon shining through the windows on the opposite side; a polished floor, huge mirrors on the walls, a huge table to one side and a chaise longue. After walking through a white wilderness for hours, these clear signs of civilisation seemed rather surreal to him. Reluctantly, he closed the door behind himself. As his gaze swept the hall again, he noticed warm yellow light coming from the crack under a door to his right.

A fire. Warmth. James felt suddenly giddy and light-headed. He reached out with a cold, gloved hand, opened the door and found himself in a salon; plush carpets on the floor, silver candelabras with flickering candles and a big fireplace with a crackling fire. Before that stood a large settee with colourful blankets and pillows thrown carelessly over it, and reclining on those a man, wearing, in startling contrast to all the colour surrounding him, black trousers, a black jacket and a crisp white shirt, halfway unbuttoned.

James stopped, suddenly aware of his uninvited and therefore unwelcomed entry to a strange house. He pulled off his hat. His brown curls were ruffled, sticking out in all directions.

The man on the couch seemed rather unfazed by James’ unexpected entry. He merely tilted his head a little, revealing more of his long pale neck. Slowly the man’s gaze travelled over James, seeming to asses him. Lazily he blew smoke from between his lips, before taking another drag from a cigar he held leisurely between long fingers.  “Was haben wir denn da?”

“I’m sorry, I mean...” James tried to catch his bearing. As diplomat he usually spoke French with the other nobles. He had learned some German words and phrases, but he found no liking for the language. Before he could struggle to produce anything to say in German, a lazy smile curled the other man’s thin lips. “Ah, you are English.”

James was surprised and relieved. “You speak English?” Oh, what a diplomat he was, stating the obvious. He started to feel a little dizzy, either from embarrassment or from the heat in the room, that had finally managed to seep through his coat and clothes. “I’m sorry for the intrusion. I did not mean any disrespect, but I got lost. Your mansion is the first sign of civilisation I came upon, since this morning. My horse slipped and broke its leg, so I have been on foot...” Suddenly the room tilted sideways.

Next thing he knew, the man was in front of him. The stranger held him by the shoulders, his grip strong, keeping him from toppling over. James was guided to the couch to sit down and he heard an amused chuckle close by his ear. “Careful, before you slip and fall as well. I can not have a stranger collapse in my salon.”

James felt heat rise to his face. He managed an apologetic if awkward half bow.  “Again, I have to apologise for not introducing myself first. James, Earl of McAvoy, at your service. I am from Britain, Scotland to be precise and here as a diplomat, sent by his majesty King George III.”

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance.” The tone sounded mocking, but James wasn’t sure if it wasn’t only the hint of an accent colouring the man’s speech. “Fürst Michael von Fassbender. Welcome to my home. Despite your not very diplomatic trespassing into my property, I will offer you sanctuary from the prospect of freezing to death outside.”

“Thank you.” James was too tired to protest the remark about his skills in diplomacy. “Please accept my humblest apologies for any inconvenience my unannounced appearance causes. It really was not my intention.”

Fürst Michael stepped over to a table that held glasses and two bottles cut of crystal glass. He poured some of the dark liquid in one of the glasses, and then handed it to James. “Here, drink. I’ll just go and order a room made ready for you. And perhaps something to eat.”

“Thank you.” James took the glass with both hands and carefully sipped at its content. The brown liquid burned down his throat. It wasn’t whisky, but something equally potent. “That is very generous. I would appreciate that a lot.”

Fürst Michael grinned. The sight was slightly unsettling. The man seemed to have far too many teeth.

“The alcohol seems to thaw your diplomatic spirit at last.” With that he left for the door and before it closed James noted, startled, that the other man was barefoot.

+++

When Michael returned his uninvited guest had taken off his coat and gloves, and pulled one of the blankets from the couch over his shoulders. He still held the glass in his hands, though it was empty. Michael stood there for a moment, taking a long look at him. The Earl looked up, blinked slowly at him, and licked his lips. Michael’s gaze lingered on them for a moment. They looked almost unnaturally red.

The Earl looked young, probably younger than Michael was, and looking quite vulnerable the way he huddled there on his couch. He couldn’t have been a diplomat for long, at least not in this country, if he hadn’t grasped the language yet. True, in the courts French was the language of choice, but it should always be a priority to make sure one understood what was going on around oneself. A slow smile spread on Michael’s lips. “Ich denke, ich werde Euch für eine Weile behalten.”

The Earl frowned at him, but not in a way as if he had understood him. “I am really sorry, but my grasp of your language is only... fleeting at best.” His smile was apologetic. “ I never could wrap my tongue around those cru... German vowels.” He swallowed and tried to make up for his slip with a smile.

‘Oh yes,’ Michael thought, confirming what he had just spoken, ‘I WILL keep him for a while.’ Out loud he only said, “Oh, please, no. I am sorry, I forgot. I just said there will be food and a bed for you shortly. I hope you can muster enough energy to eat, you look ready to drop off right here.” He moved closer and took the empty glass from James’ hands. “More?”

“Ah, I better not. I feel it going to my head already. What is that, anyway?”

“Schnapps. Made from nuts.” Michael put the glass aside, then sat down close beside the young Englishman. He turned towards him and rested his arm on the back of the couch, taking his time to look. The firelight painted the young mans face a gentle gold, but he guessed his skin must be pale. His red lips glistened wet and he licked them again while Michael watched.

“Excuse me for not being diplomatic right now, I am far too tired, but do you make a habit of staring at your guests?”

“Only those that surprise me in the middle of the night.” Michael leaned forward, gaze fixed on those enticing lips. A knock at the door stopped him. He straightened. “Herein!”

The door opened to admit his valet, Ferdinand, with a tray of food. Except for the old mans eyes, one couldn’t even tell that just shortly before he had been fast asleep, as Michael had gone to rouse him. He bowed slightly to the two men on the couch. “Das Essen, Euer Durchlaucht.”

Michael ordered his valet to take one of the small tables, put it in front of his visitor and put the food there. He let the Englishman eat in peace, refraining from staring at him for too long. He got himself something to drink, sat down on the couch and looked at the fire, just throwing the Earl a short glance here and then. He had some questions, but those could wait. Especially since some, like where the young Englishman had been headed to, were irrelevant now. He would be staying here.  
###


	2. Chapter 2

James ate slowly, despite being hungry he did not intend to appear uncivilised by wolfing down the food; some cold meat and dark bread. There was hot tea as well, sweetened with honey. Despite there being no milk, the tea felt heavenly and he slowly started to believe, that he could get completely warm again. He had only parted with his cloak, since the fabric itself felt cold and more hindering than helping, in letting the warmth from the fire reach him.

James concentrated on the food and still was aware of the glances Fürst Michael gave him. At least he had stopped his intense staring. Despite the alcohol that had made him feel slightly dizzy and his tiredness, he was certain the Fürst had meant to kiss him before. The mere thought made his cheeks turn red. He hadn’t said or done anything, had he? He didn’t even know the man. And anyway he hadn’t seemed very thrilled, to have him stumble into his home all uninvited. So what had that been about? Trying to concentrate made his head spin. James took his teacup, trying to calm himself. It didn’t matter anyway. He would not trespass on Fürst Michael’s hospitality longer than necessary. Tomorrow, after a goods night rest, he would... “The horse!” The thought shocked him like cold water.

“What?”

“The horse, my horse. I still have to go back and fetch it. I can’t just leave it out there. It’s injured”

Fürst Michael looked at him sceptical. “You want to go back out into the cold, trying to find an animal, in the middle of the night, in an area you don’t even know? You would just get lost - again. And I doubt that you will stumble into another inhabited place, where they will take care of you.”

The last remark cut sharp. James got up, proud, he managed so without swaying. “I cannot leave the poor beast out there to die painfully, without trying to help it. I at least have to go back and put it out of its misery! And by the moonlight it should be possible to follow back by my footprints. I’m sure I left a quite visible path in the snow, coming here.” Perhaps he could ask the man to send a servant with him, or borrow a horse to get back quicker.

“Your mind is made up? Well then, feel free to leave.” Comfortable Fürst Michael lent back on his couch. James’ spirit sank. Had he really hoped for the man’s help? A spark of compassion maybe? But all he got was arrogant indifference.

James took his coat and gloves and put them on, both still felt cold from outside. Last he reached for his hat. Fürst Michael watched him, his face unreadable. “Well, thank you for your ... hospitality. I hope you allow me to trespass on it again, when I return with, or without my horse.” If he managed to return. Cold fear started to creep up from the pit of his stomach. How long had it taken him to walk here, could he manage to find the horse? James frowned. He had a better bearing of the area and the way he had taken, he was sure he could find his way there and back again. But could he get the horse back here? Well that didn’t matter really, he had to try at least. He went to the door to the salon and opened it. The entry hall was cold and dark and part of him regretted his decision. But as his friends in London had pointed out so often, he could be one stubborn Scottish pighead.

Decidedly James put his hat back on and stepped to the main door, hand reaching for the doorhandle. Suddenly he was held back, a strong arm was wrapped around his waist and he got pulled back against a warm body, slightly taller that his.

“Stop. If this means so much to you, I will go and look for your horse and even bring it back if it is still alive. And you will go to bed.”

James stiffened. He felt heat rise through his chest. He was angry, relieved and strangely exited at the same time. “You... I’m sorry but I got the impression that you had no intention of helping me with this.”

“I wanted to see how determined you were. I like what I saw. Sehr sogar.”

James felt the other man’s hot breath against his ear. His heartbeat quickened and suddenly he started to feel almost hot, something neither fire nor hot tea had managed to accomplish and he started trembling. Still he held tightly on to the last shreds of his dignity he could muster. “Thank you, for your kindness.”

“I’m not doing this out of kindness.”

Before James could inquire, he was suddenly pushed around so he was facing back, away from the door. “Now off to bed with you.” There was a fleeting feeling of lips brushing against his ear, then he was let go. James nearly stumbled backwards, just then realising that he must have leant against the taller man. He felt mortified as he noted the old servant standing close by, candelabra in hand. He didn’t comment or show anything on his face, but merely bowed in his direction, then made a gesture towards the stairs at the back of the entry hall.  “Wenn Ihr mir bitte folgen würdet.”

The meaning of that was clear. James turned to look at Fürst Michael, feeling he should still say something, but found the man had disappeared unnoticed.

+++

Michael closed the door behind himself and stepped out onto the porch. There was a light dusting of fresh snow on the stone steps. All was quiet. The moon made the snow glow eerily and he had no trouble to see the courtyard with its surrounding buildings. Kitchens and servants quarters to his right and the big no longer used hall for concerts and balls, and the abandoned chapel, to his left.

How to find an injured horse in the snowy woods, when one didn’t know where to look? Following a mans footprints in the snow? The Earl would probably think that. He would never guess Michael had – other – means at his disposal. He wouldn’t normally consider it, helping some stranger this way, but the young English Earl... James, had been so delightfully stubborn and determined. Michael had been certain he would cave and ask for his help, or change his mind, not daring the cold night again. But he had walked straight to that door, not looking back.

A slow smile spread on his lips, as he thought about the fierce look on the other man’s face.

He was certain, James was worth this. He took a deep breath, and let the cold air cut sharply through his lungs. He was still barefoot and the ground beneath his feet was cold, painfully so. He concentrated on that.

He took the steps down into the courtyard, crossed over the cleared path in front and stepped into the kneedeep snow. It felt like sharp knives cut into the soles of his feet. For a moment he was uncertain if that was enough, but then, slowly a feeling of detachment crept up on him.  
 _  
Mi – cha - el..._ It was like a whisper in the air, though he knew, only he could hear it. A slight smile curled his lips at the familiar voice. _Mi –cha – el!_ It grew more defined, still husky but clearly male. Michael started to feel light-headed, then the feeling crept through his whole body, until he himself, his whole existence, felt not real, hollowed out, like he was just an empty shell. His body was trembling as it became harder to breath, but it didn’t matter, he was just an outside observer. He no longer felt the cold either.  
 _  
Michael... you need my help._

He took a moment to answer, careful not to loose the feeling of emptiness and detachment. “Yes.” His voice sounded odd, too loud and too fast.

The horse, you want me to find it. It was no question. He knew, because he was him. Still he needed to say what he wanted out loud. “Yes, you need to find it, bring it here and ...it has a hurt leg.” He heard his voice echoing back at him..” He heard his voice echoing back at him.

_You do not want it mended but slowly mending so he has to stay here till then._

“Yes.”

_A nice plan, I like it. I like him. Want!_

„Of course you do. It is your plan as well.“  
 _  
I will do it._

Slowly Michael’s body started moving, turning, looking out into the distance. His eyes had turned completely white, like the snow. He wasn’t seeing what was around him, but his sight was reaching further away, slipping across the snow-covered hills and woods surrounding his estate, through the forests, it all speeding past his vision, like he was riding through them, only so much faster.  
And there, he found it. The horse had sunk down into the snow, one leg sticking out at a completely wrong angle. It’s body was cold, not dead, yet but on its way there. He reached out his hands and grabbed it at the head.

The horse lay right there in front of him, in the courtyard. He was kneeling in front of it, holding its head. It gave a weak whinny.  
 _  
Mending is always pain._

“Mending is always pain.”

The feeling of detachment was slowly slipping away.

No, not yet. He wasn’t finished yet. His grip tightened on the horses head. His awareness plunged into its body, flowing through it. Warm flesh, threatening to go cold, blood coursing to slow through the veins. For a moment there was the urge to just tear at it, taking it apart, everything, bathing in the glory of it all. But he shouldn’t, couldn’t. There was a purpose. It needed to live. To get what he wanted. Live...

 The horse tugged at his grip, weakly at first, then with more determination, growing stronger every second, finally breaking free and scrambling to its feet, if only able to support itself on three legs, shivering and sweaty, still one leg damaged.

A wide grin appeared on Michael’s face. “James...” _James ..._ _We will enjoy him._ Sudden heat burnt his chest and it was like a fist squeezed his heart. Then the world swung back into clarity.  
“I will.”

The cold hit him hard and he shivered. His feet felt numb. He swayed slightly, his vision going black for a moment. There was nothing to hold on to, so he tried to stay. He took deep breaths, fighting back the slight feeling of nausea. It had been a while since he had done something that exhausting. Finally he dared to straighten up. He looked back at his estate, up to the first floor where one James, Earl of McAvoy was probably sleeping by now. He was sure it would be worth it.

+++

Michael half lay on his couch, feet propped up on a small footstool that stood right in front of the fireplace. The fire had already burnt down, but still gave of enough warmth. He was exhausted.  
The horse was looked after in the stables, Ferdinand had seen to that and had roused one of the stablehands to look after it. Michael had sent his valet back to bed, after having inquired about his visitor and having been assured he had already been fast asleep, as Ferdinand had gone back to fetch the young Earls clothes and boots.

He should just go to bed as well, but there was still this feeling of restlessness he always got after doing this ... magic.  
It was like this other half of him, this demon he had merged with and his human part, needed some time to meld back together, after being apart for the demon to be able to access his powers.

Absently he looked up at the ceiling. Slowly a smile started to spread on his lips. He got up, grabbed the candelabra and went upstairs, to the guest room.

The curtains were drawn and the only light came from the candles he had brought along. The room was not as warm as the salon downstairs, no fire had been laid in the grate, but through the chimney some of the heat from downstairs kept the room warm, even when it was unused.

Michael stepped closer to the big bed, and put the candelabra onto the nightstand. He looked down at the young Earl, who was almost buried by the big featherblankets. All that was visible was his head, resting on a soft pillow. His cheeks looked flushed. Michael noted briefly, that the other mans sideburns, curving into the otherwise cleanshaven cheeks, were lighter than the man’s hair. But what really captured his attention were the red lips, that were parted slightly.

Michael reached out a hand and touched the sensuous mouth, tracing the lips’ tempting curve with his fingers. James’ eyelids fluttered and suddenly Michael found himself fixed by a sleepy yet nonetheless intense gaze. Reluctantly he pulled his fingers back and had the pleasure of watching the other man lick his lips absently. “You do it ‘gain.” The words were slurred, further distorted by a thick, rough accent, betraying that James was far from awake. Michael had some trouble deciphering the words.

“What?”

“Stare a’ me.”

It took Michael a moment to understand that, but then he smiled. “Because I like what I see. It makes me want to do more than just look.” He brushed back a lock of hair from James’ forehead, fingers toying briefly with it.

“Though...” the word turned into a yawn, but James tried again. “Thought you di’.” James’ eyes drifted shut again.

Intrigued Michael waited, but James seemed to have just dropped off to sleep again. “And I hear no protest from you.” Though he would be surprised, if the young man would remember any of this conversation come next morning. He took the candelabra and, after one last long look, headed downstairs and to his own bed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Contains angry, arrogant, annoying Michael, stubborn, annoyed, angry James, books, maps, a library, politics, distrust, accusations and flirting. Or is James just imagining things?

James decided, it was a bit of a bother to have someone wait on him who he could neither understand nor talk to. He had been allowed to sleep in, judging by the light outside. His pocketwatch had stopped, though it and the papers he had transferred from his saddlebags to his coat, were the only things of his possession, that he was able to find in the bedroom after waking up.  

The servant, the same he had met yesterday, had proven rather unhelpful, when he inquired about his clothes. He seemed to understand neither English nor French. Instead he motioned him to an antechamber, were a bath had been prepared. The prospect of the steaming water and soap had decided James to forgo the search for his clothes for the moment.

But he had hoped his clothes would appear after he had taken his bath, but the things he found spread out on the already made bed, were not his. He guessed his things had only been taken for cleaning. Still, he didn’t feel too comfortable wearing strange clothes in a strange place. The memories of last night were a bit hazy and seemed to get mixed with this nights odd dreams. All revolving around the holder of the estate, Fürst Michael. The man had been arrogant, annoying and, James felt himself blush, he had kissed him? Nervously he licked his lips. Surely that had been a dream only. A fever dream! Born from his exhaustion and the relieve of having escaped the prospect of freezing to death in the snow.

Had the promise to go look for his horse been a mere dream, too? Well, just one way to find out. James threw the big towel he had wrapped around himself on the bed and started dressing.  The clothes were dark, except for the linen shirt, and slightly to big on him. He stepped to the mirror tugging at the dark blue jacket. The fit across the shoulder wasn’t that bad, but it was clearly made for someone taller than him.

When he finally opened the door, he was glad to find his own boots waiting for him, cleaned and polished to a shine. Thus he walked downstairs.

He found the servant waiting downstairs for him, motioning him toward a door on the left hand side from the entrance. It was a dining room, dominated by a long table. One end was decked out with plates and dishes for breakfast, and there, at the head of the table, sat Fürst Michael dressed in black again. He put down his cup of tea and looked up as James entered.

“Ah, my English diplomat has finally awakened.”

“Good Morning.” James glanced toward a clock, ticking away on a dresser placed to one side of the room. It was well past 10 o’clock. As he looked back to the table, Fürst Michael was still watching him, making him uncomfortably aware of how he must look in the ‘borrowed’ clothes. Definitely out of place. “I hope you did not feel obliged to wait with breakfast for me. Since I’m already trespassing on your hospitality “ James would not have been able to make the word hospitality all sincere, even if he had tried harder. Which he didn’t. He couldn’t keep back the slight edge in his voice, remembering all to clearly the other man’s snide remarks an inhospitality from yesterday. And now, he felt like the man’s gaze was meant to rile him.

Fürst Michael raised an eyebrow but he didn’t look offended, if anything he seemed a little amused. “Oh no. I rose rather late today too. Since you kept me up last night; much later than intended.” James stiffened slightly at the innuendo in the other man’s voice. “But please, do sit down.” Fürst Michael indicated the empty chair on his right, where a plate, cup and saucer had been laid out.

“Thank you.” James walked over and sat down. The servant poured him some tea before offering a plate laden with cheese, thinly sliced beef and eggs. James felt quite hungry and put plenty on his plate.

“I hope you slept well.”

“Yes.” There actually was milk and James was distracted, finally able to enjoyed some proper tea. He closed his eyes as the warm liquid flowed over his tongue.

“And the breakfast seems to be to your liking too. Then you wont mind extending your stay indefinitely.

James nearly spit his tea back out. “I beg your pardon?” He tried to read the other man’s face, but apart from a slight smile, that looked distinctively smug, he could not make much of the man’s expression. What was he playing at? Yesterday he practically accused him of trespassing and made sure he was aware that he was merely tolerated, definitely not invited. And now he asked him, no, simply stated, that he would stay, without consulting him first . That arrogant... James rained in his flaring temper. “Please know, I’m really grateful for your help, but... “

“Then to show your gratitude, you will follow my invitation.”

Every muscle in James’ boday tightened. He wanted to jump up, grab the man’s collar and... ‘Breathe, James. Calm your mind. Relax.’ He managed to stop himself from saying what was right on his mind. To school his expression to that of friendly calm was harder. “If my time was my own I would gladly accept, but I am expected at Baden. All my luggage has been sent ahead. I will be expected the day after tomorrow the latest. So if you show me where we are on a map,... “

“Then what?” Fürst Michael tilted his head to one side, one eyebrow raised, greyish eyes feigning mild shock. ”It is way to far to walk.”

“Walk... my horse.” James sobered, tea and breakfast forgotten. Fürst Michael did not take him serious, neither had he yesterday, when James had wanted to go back to his horse. He had only been making fun of him, never intending to really help. “You lied to me.” The words were spoken calmly but there was an unmistakable chill in his voice. “Yesterday, you said you would look for my horse.” James’ took a deep breath, making sure he continued on calmly.  “You didn’t.”

Fürst Michael fixed him sharply with a narrow look. “Careful. It is not considered polite to call your host a liar.” He stood up and motioned for James to do the same.

James was startled. Had he done it now, would he bee thrown out or... Chilling thoughts of pistols and duels crept up on him. He had no idea about what skills Fürst Michael possessed, the way the man held himself with a calm certainty, even when he was angry, promised nothing good for James. He took his napkin, carefully wiping his mouth, taking his time to collect his thoughts, before getting up. “Your intentions may have been noble, trying to stop me from going back out into the cold, but you should not have made me believe...”

But Fürst Michael was already out of the door and James had to hurry after him. They walked through a long hall, passing a servant girl on the way, who quickly curtsied. A small sidedoor took them to the outbuilding next to the manor. People were busy there, shovelling snow, driving wheelbarrows with manure out to a big steaming dungheap further away. Someone led a sturdy looking horse in front of a sleigh, that was filled with firewood. They all stopped shortly as they passed and pulled their caps, though Fürst Michael seemed to hardly acknowledge them. He walked straight to the doors of one of the barns and unlatched a smaller sidedoor, holding it open for James. He still hadn’t spoken a word.

James hesitated, his gaze rested searching on the other man’s face, but it didn’t yield any information on what was going on.

Inside it was dark, light coming only through small windows high up near the ceiling. The smell of dry hay and horses heavy in the air. James stopped for a moment, to let his eyes adjust to the gloom. Fürst Michael just brushed past him, as if he had no trouble orientating himself in the twilight. At one of the boxes he stopped, stepping aside and motioning toward the wooden bars that made up the upper half of the horsebox.

Realisation dawned as James stepped closer to look inside. There in the hay, covered by a blanket, lay his horse. It only raised its head a little and its ears flicked in their direction. The leg was bandaged with some sort of concoction smeared on it apparently underneath the bandages. Beside the horse, resting against a stable wall, sat a stablehand, blinking sleepily at them. He felt relieved that the damage done was not as bad as he had feared. He would not have wanted the poor beast having to die. Beside the horse, resting against a stable wall, sat a stablehand, blinking sleepily at them. Evidently he had been taking care of the horse through the night. He wanted to get up, as he noticed them, but a sharp wave of the hand by Fürst Michael let him sink back down into the hay.

 “I... don’t know what to say.” James felt guilty and stupid. He had terribly misjudged the man and offended him, called him a liar. He had every right to call him out. Time to make amends, if he would accept. “I’m terribly sorry for implying that you had no intention of trying to get my horse. Please accept my apology.” James bowed slightly, but kept his gaze on Fürst Michael, intending to catch whatever information the other man’s reaction would yield. He was glad to see Fürst Michael smile.

“I have to point out that you had to apologise rather a lot since you came her. As you can see, your horse, though safely in my stable, is hardly fit to travel. Its leg is broken and it will take some time before it is mended. So I will accept your apologies, if you accept my invitation.”

James really could not see a graceful way out of that, without offending Fürst Michael - again. As the tension seeped out of him, he started to feel weary  an any protest was pushed to the back of his mind. He really did not look forward to get on the road again – right now. For despite the stables not being exactly cold, it was cooler than the dining room had been and his body registered the cold like a threat. And his stomach was complaining, that he had only gotten a few bites of the delicious looking breakfast down, before he was rushed out here. So he did the only sensible thing. He nodded. “I do accept.”

+++

Back in the warmth of the manor they finished their breakfast, then Fürst Michael decided he would show him around a bit.

The tour took them through the salon which James had stumbled into last night, and right into the adjourning library. The room was long but narrow in comparison. Three large windows, cream-coloured curtains that were drawn back and white panelled walls made sure the room looked light and friendly, despite the dark-brown bookshelves. They almost reached up to the high ceiling, and James noted some of the shelves were bending slightly under their heavy weight. James took a deep breath, letting  the mixture of beeswax, the peculiar smell of paper, ink and something indescribably but typical for books and the faint aroma of cigar smoke fill his lungs.

“You have quite a collection.” He stepped closer to one bookcase and pulled books out at random, checking the titles. Of course they were in German.

“Surprised? There are some in English, Italian and French as well.” He indicated another bookcase further away. “Otherwise I have not much of a chance to practice these languages, since it is rather a rare occasion that someone from either of these countries is led astray so that he makes it into my lands. Though one can’t know with the French these days.”

“Indeed.” James glanced at Fürst Michael, wondering how inclined the man was towards the French. It might have everything or nothing to do with him insisting on James accepting his ‘invitation’ to stay. “I guess during the winter there is not much else to amuse oneself with her other than books.”

Fürst Michael leant against one of the shelves, watching him. “You make it sound as if that were something bad. Most people ... annoy me.”

James pushed the book, he had just pulled out, back and turned around. “Then I am surprised that you asked me to stay as your guest.”

Instead of an answer Michael turned toward a little cabinet, that was part of one of the bookcases. “You wanted to know where you are. Perhaps it will be easier for you to orientate yourself on a map, than out in the woods.” Inside the cabinet were neatly rolled up maps. He picked one and put it on the small table, which stood in the middle of the room. James came over, as the map was rolled out, and weighed down at two corners with an ashtray and a book. He studied the map, moving over to Fürst Michael’s side, to better read the little scribbled names beside dots that marked  cities and towns. “Ah, here it is, this is were  I started. “ He pointed.

“I see. Karlsruhe. So is Kurfürst Karl Friedrich still opposed to Napoleaon’s approaching troops? Or will he fold, come spring and the war comes marching on our doorsteps?”

James tried to discretely read Fürst Michael’s expression, but it was rather hard to make out what thoughts were hiding behind those grey eyes. “The ‘German states’ have already come to a conclusion concerning the feared Spring-invasion. But I have to ask, without any intention of offending you, have I fallen into the hands of a French collaborator? What is your plan of action come spring, Fürst Michael?”

The man chuckled. “You have nothing to fear. You are quite safe in my hands. Here, look.” He pointed to a small area south-east of Karlsruhe, that was marked as a sovereign state. “This is my principality. I have nothing to hold against a French army, nor, I hope, anything that would interest them. So I plan to weather out this storm as best as possible, while my real investments lie safe elsewhere.”

James bent forward to take a better look at the map. He felt a warm body brushing against him.  
Another map was put on the table. For a moment there was a warm hand resting on his shoulders.

“Here, if you want to have a closer look at what is mine.” Warm breath spilled against James’ cheek as  the words were murmured against his ear. He tensed, a hot and cold feeling suddenly spreading from his chest. Was Fürst Michael trying to confuse and distract him from his initial question. Memories from last night emerged, memories of a warm body against his back, an arm wrapped around his waist. He had the disquieting feeling it had not all just been an assortment of exhausted dreams. Was the man.. flirting with him? ‘Don’t let him distract you. That’s probably what he wants. You’ve seen this often enough!’ Though mostly it were women playing these games at court.

James tried to ignore the man, though he could not control his blushing. “Thank you.” He busied himself with studying the map, his fingers tracing over the marked roads and paths. Though he could not make out which road he had taken, that led into Fürst Michael’s lands.

“Here.” Suddenly James’ hand was taken in a strong grip and guided to a particular road. As the hand withdrew it wasn’t without long fingers brushing over the back of his hand.

James had enough of this game. He quickly straightened up, about to whirl around, ready to yell at the man. Suddenly he was hit by a wave of dizziness. For a moment everything went black before his eyes. He swayed precariously. A strong arm around his waist kept him upright.

 “Are you all right?”

“Yes!” He tried to free himself, annoyed and uncomfortable. “I’m all right. You can let go.” James demanded vehemently.

“Are you sure? Seems like you still haven’t shaken off yesterdays exertions.”  He didn’t let go, but only held him tighter. There wasn’t a way out of his grip, if he didn’t want to hit the man. There was definitly an idea. Duel and pistols be damned. He would not let the man play him so. He would not be made a fool of. The world swam out of focus again and he saw little lights dancing in front of his eyes. James stopped trying to twist free. “What the hell...” His hand grabbed the other man’s arm, holding on.

“Here, sit down.”

James sank down on the couch he was led to and leant back. He closed his eyes concentrating on the very firm and steady couch under him. Slowly the world stopped swaying leaving him with a slight feeling of nausea. As he dared to opened his eyes again, Fürst Michael stood in front of him, glass in hand he held out for him. James took it and smelled a familiar liquid. “Schnapps? Isn’t it a bit early for that.”

Fürst Michael sat down beside him, a lit cigar in his hand. “Would you rather...?” He blew a smokering into the air.

James shook his head, regretting his action right away, as everything tilted sideways. He kept very still until the feeling passed.  “Thank you, no. I’m just not sure if alcohol is the best medicine at the moment. I already feel drunk without it.” Though he tried a little sip. The liquid filled his mouth and throat with liquid fire. A feeling of warmth spread out from his belly, calming the nausea and anchoring him. Still he moved slowly as he turned his head to look beside him at Fürst Michael. The man seemed all calm indifference and not like mere moments ago he had tried to ... do what he had. It made his head spin again, though in a somewhat different way. James tried not to dwell on it and jumped to a safer topic. “You said your investments lie elsewhere?”

“Yes. As you have seen on the map, my land is rather small.”

“Mainly forest, from what I gathered and as I have experienced firsthand. No manufactories or many farmlands. So what did you invest in?”

“An interesting question. One that maybe an innocent seeming diplomat, secretly working for the French, would ask.”

James felt all the calm the alcohol had induced in him slip away. He regretted not having hit the man before. “What do you imply? That I am a spy?! You would have to look long and hard to find any one English gentleman who would be willing to work for the French.”

“But as I recall, you had told me yesterday, that you are from Scotland. And were not some 50 or 60 years ago the Scottish allied with the French, trying to get their own Stuart prince on the throne.”

“As you say, that was 60 years ago. And one would be mad thinking that with the help of a powerhungry upstart like Napoleon, Scotland could gain any independence.”

“So you rather think that Britain and the kingdoms in Europe stand a chance against him?”

“If only the European Dukes, Kings and Emperors would stop squabbling with each other and concentrate on the real threat!”

“You do get rather passionate about this. Not diplomatic, but...” Fürst Michael lent forward, taking a long drag from his cigar. “I like that. Though you must agree, that the future looks rather bleak, when it rests on Europe’s powers trying to agree on some sort of action against Napoleon. That is why I invested in ships.”

James hadn’t expected an answer to his initial question, not after being accused of being a spy. Though, taking a moment to think, in all fairness he couldn’t condemn Fürst Michael’s train of thoughts, since he himself had doubts as to what side the other man was on. “Ships? Warships?”

“Nothing as dramatic, or stupid. I hardly want my investment to be blown up when it encounters the French. No. Tradeships. Down in Venice. Though I fear, if your British Navy can’t do something against Napoleons grip on the Mediterranean sea, their use is limited. So I have invested in ships that sail from Danish harbours as well.”

“Denmark?” Despite the smug smile playing on Fürst Michael’s lips James had to admit the man was resourceful. He recalled long discussions about what would happen, should Napoleon’s fleet manage to block the channel and thus any trade with the continent. Danish harbours seemed to offer a possibility to slip past such blockades. As long as the Danish Kingdome wouldn’t fall.

“Mhm. A good place to either trade with Russia, Sweden or Britain. So you can be assured, Britain’s wellbeing rests very close to my heart. I think we gathered enough information about each other now, to come to the conclusion, that neither of us is a friend of Napoleon’s politics.”

James mulled that over for a moment. Of course, Fürst Michael could have just made that up about his investments, but then again, why should he. He could have hardly known an English diplomat would come here and give him some information worthwhile to trade with the French. So to weather this storm it would only be logical to look for a possibility to secure ones fortunes elsewhere.

“You don’t seem convinced.” Fürst Michael’s voice held an unmistakable edge. “Do you want to accuse me of lying again?”

James cringed. “No, Fürst Michael, I sincerely believe...”

But the other man raised his hand, cutting him off. “Good.” He smiled. “Then we can cut the formalities... since we agree that we are allies now. So please, James, just call me Michael.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More snow, a library, paintings, an abandoned chapel. Michael’s demon half makes another appearance. A glimpse of Michael’s past. Blood. Kissing.

James sat in the library. He had chosen a spot on one of the broad windowsills, where the winter sun provided good light for reading. He had wrapped one of the blankets, which he had pinched from Michael’s salon, around himself,  to keep warm against the cold radiating through the window and made his chosen spot more comfortable with some likewise relocated pillows. Michael though didn’t seem to mind and had instructed the servants to leave them be.

Since his arrival two days had already passed. To his embarrassment, James had spent most of the time in bed, sleeping late and the planned short naps his body demanded in the afternoon, always turned into hours of deep sleep.  Michael had made a point comparing him to a hibernating hedgehog, badger or a bear respectively, though if it was meant teasing or taunting, James  wasn’t quiet sure. Just as he wasn’t quite sure about anything with the man. At one time it seemed like he was ... for lack of a better word, flirting with him and the next his comments were, mildly put, insulting. James found himself more than once very hard pressed to keep his temper in check.

Then there was the matter of his confinement. Technical he may be a guest, but Michael had it made unmistakably clear, that he did not intend of letting him leave. James had asked about that once, and the answer had been, no answer at all really. _“I could not bear to see your pretty face frozen in the snow”._ This very well sounded like a threat wrapped in a very strange compliment that bordered on mocking. James had had ladies call him handsome but pretty was clearly more meant as an insult, though the way he had said it. James shook his head. For the moment he had decided to leave the topic alone. He did not intend to leave right away anyway. Not while his horse still needed to mend and he himself still suffered from the day trudging through the snow. And the world outside seemed to be on Michael’s side. Last night and throughout the whole morning it had snowed again, as if to make sure any travel through it stayed hard.

James gaze swept the courtyard, where most of the path had been already cleared by the servants. The snow had been amassed in the middle of the yard, like a wall blocking the fountain in the middle. It now was hardly visible as a strange hillock of snow itself. For a moment he wondered what the place might look in summer.

‘Well, I’ll never know.’ He buried himself in the book again. Some story involving a haunted estate, perilous marshes and ghosts. But he just couldn’t get into story anymore. As he looked up from the pages, he could not quite remember what it was he just had read. He stifled a yawn, and closed the book with a snap. He had no intention to waste another afternoon asleep in bed. He just needed to do something, not just sit around, to chase away the sleepiness. He put blanket and book aside and stood up. The outside world, with all its snow and cold was not yet tempting enough, so he decided to just stroll through the house.

Right behind the library, was the mansions gallery. Pictures, statues and some assorted odds and ends of a cabinet of wonder stored here, in a long hall. Michael had showed it to him briefly. Now James took his time, stopping to look at some of the paintings.

One particular caught his eyes. It was strange, not beautiful but disconcerting. It showed the whiteclad body of a woman, half slipping of a bed. She looked as if she was tossing around in her sleep. On her chest sat a big, burly looking troll-like creature that stared directly out of the picture, fixing him with dark bulging eyes. Behind a red curtain in the background, an ugly horsehead made an entrance. Its white eyes in stark contrast to the dirty grey fur, just looked wrong and reminded him more of an ugly toad. James shivered. Why anyone would want a painting like this in ones gallery, or anywhere in the house he could not fathom.

He left the gallery, which, after taking a bend, led through a door that was closed, but not locked, to the manor’s ballroom. The room reached up over two stories, the ceiling decorated with beautiful paintings of a blue sky, littered with clouds on which creatures and gods of mythology held court. But the festive scene was immersed into deep gloom, since only two of the rooms windows were unbarred, to let some light in. In a corner stood some furniture, all covered up with big sheets.  
The room had been dismissed by Michael, as he showed him around, and it was clear he did not intend to use it any time soon. It was a pity though.

His tour of the house had ended here, but two more doors led from the hall on the other side. Curious James walked over and tried them. The one on the left was locked, but the other opened easily. Beyond it lay another long hall, as gloomy as the ballroom. Large mirrors decorated the walls and he guessed it was once used as an entrance hall for guests, who came to any festivities held here. Up ahead was a staircase. Slowly James walked over, contemplating if he should turn back and get a candlestick. Another door to his left caught his attention.

He tried it and found another large room beyond, but it was completely empty. The polished stone floor was laid out in geometric patterns of black and white. The white walls held barely any decoration, just half-columns making for a regular structure. The space between them was empty though and James wondered if there once had been paintings or mirrors hanging there. It made the room look bleak and forgotten. James just wanted to turn around and leave when he noted two more doors leaving from the room. One that must lead back into the ballroom, the one he had found locked from the other side. The other was to his right. The doorhandle did not seem to yield at first, but after he pushed down hard, it opened with a rusty creak and swung open. A cold draft greeted him and the smell of stale air. Here too, most of the windows had been barred, but not the ones high up, immersing the room in twilight. To his surprise, James found he had stumbled into the mansions chapel.  
It was clearly not used, but everything was still there. Benches, beautifully carved, an altar, with a big painting. The scene it showed was hard to make out in the gloom, but the gilded and coloured carved figures managed to look imposing even in the dim light. Carefully James brushed the dust from one of the benches  then sat down. He looked up at the forgotten splendour, puzzling at the forgotten richness of this place and wondering, why it was no longer used.

+++

Michael opened the door to the library. “I thought you would be hibernating again, but my valet told me...” he stopped midsentence, as he found the library empty.

Forgotten on the windowsill still lay the blanket and pillows James used to wrap himself in when sitting there - and the book he had been reading. It was rather unlike the proper English gentleman to leave the book just lying about. Usually he would put it back, even when he was tired. So Michael settled down on the couch to wait for him to come back. Soon he grew impatient and got up again. He decided to look for the other man, heading to the library, thinking it the most likely place to find James.

But the gallery  was empty, as was the ballroom beyond. He just wanted to turn around and look in another part of the mansion, when he noted one of the doors on the other side of the ballroom standing open. A disquieting feeling crept up on him. Had James decided to go nosing about in parts of the building that were of no concern to him? He quickened his pace. The long room with its old mirrors, used as an entrance hall when his parents held festivities, banquets and dances here, was deserted. If James had come through here, he probably would have taken the stairs up. He slowly walked towards them, but stopped in the middle of the long room as something caught his attention. Slowly he turned toward the door on his left. It stood open.

He felt a short surge of his temper rising up, that quietened down just as quickly, leaving a feeling of disquiet behind. ‘I never gave him permission to go here. But I didn’t forbid him either, of course not. It would have roused suspicion and probably made him curious.’

Michael forced himself to walk over to the door. “James?” There was no answer. For a moment he closed his eyes. The rooms beyond this door had lost their power a long time ago. All that they held now were old memories, coated in dust.

He stepped into the empty marble hall. He remembered when it had been filled with people. All talking in hushed voices. He had always dreaded this place, like a forgate to hell. The white doubledoor on the right was left ajar.

Michael stood there, rooted to the spot, staring at the door. His hands were balled to fists. The last time he had been through there, had been the day when this place had become too much. The pain, the torment. It – they – he had lashed out. He never had set foot into that place afterward. It stopped holding a threat for him after that day, it was no more than another room in his house, yet still he had avoided it.

He could walk away and wait for James back in the library.

He had not allowed him to go in there. He should not be in there.

Slowly he moved over to the door. ‘It no longer can hurt us.’ He clung to that though.

He pushed the door open and stepped into the chapel. The smell hit him, the mixture of the cold, musty air impregnated with the heavy smell of burnt incense. He could hear the small bells chiming. They hurt his ears. He remembered. The pain, ever since that day, the day he died or nearly died, the day the demon saved him. Coming here had hurt. They would not believe him, but he sat here in the chapel, fighting back tears as the priests words felt like tiny needles tormenting him. The air made him sick, the holy water burned his skin.

 _Me!_

Us.

He started to feel lightheaded.  He had to fight to breath, as the sensation of his own body grew distant. ‘No, no... not now! Not again.’

 _The room of torment. The holy water burning me. Incense choking me. I had to end it. The only way. Defiling this place. Tearing out his throat so he no longer could utter the words that hurt me. Blood, warm blood ..._

He had to get out. They had to get out.

Michael stumbled backward. But the door was no longer there. He was trapped.

Suddenly someone grabbed him. Strong hands steadied him. Someone pushed and dragged him through the door.

+++

James sat looking up at the chapels choir, where a big organ stood forgotten. He wondered about the strangeness this abandoned place of worship added to the whole palace. Why was it no longer in use? He could see, Fürst Michael... Michael, being a cynic, a realist, a man who had foresworn to put his fate in faith. But why then had he not taken this place apart and used it in another way? Or did he keep it out of some sort of sentiment? Though that would be a side of Michael, he had yet to discover.  
James couldn’t say he was keeping up with faith much either, but still, to see such a place of beauty so forgotten. In a way it was sad.

Startled he was torn out of his thoughts as the door opened. Michael stepped into the chapel. His eyes were wide, his expression grim and James thought, that now he had overstepped some obscure boundary. ‘Maybe now he will bring out pistols for a duel.’, though certain it would not be that, James prepared for another verbal sparring.

But no words left Michael’s mouth. He just stood there, suddenly frozen to the spot starting to tremble.  His eyes were white, like all colour had washed out of them. He didn’t seem able to breath, sucking air in small shallow gasps, inbetween German words stumbled over his lips, the only James could understand was ‘Nein’. No.

James was on his feet, just as Michael stumbled backwards, arms flailing wildly. He was at his side in seconds, wrapping his arms around the man. Was this some kind of fit? It had started the moment he entered the chapel. So best to get him out. He dragged and pulled the taller man to the door, and out into the empty room beyond. Carefully he let him sink on the cold floor, making sure he could lean against the wall. James crouched down beside him, keeping a firm grip on the mans shoulders. His eyes were still white, like blind, yet they seemed focused on him. A chill ran down James’ spine. What was wrong with the man?

Michael’s shaking hands suddenly  grasped onto his head, pulling him closer. Cold lips pressed against his. James was to startled to react. Then the lips touching his felt warm, the body he was holding suddenly relaxed, the trembling ceasing. Grey eyes looked into his and a tongue licked over his lips before Michael sucked gently at his lower lip. Then he deepened the kiss. Tongue slipping into his mouth, lips moving against his.

Confused James noted that it felt good. The warm mouth against his, confident and demanding, not shy. He could taste cigars and something else. He responded to the kiss, trying to explore that taste. Very different than any woman he had ever kissed.

It hit James like a bucket of cold water. He was kissing, was being kissed by another man. That was not... He shouldn’t... He drew back, pulling back his hands that were still resting on Michael’s shoulder and stood up quickly.

Michael’s gaze followed him. He was still leaning against the wall, his jacket dusty and a little rumpled, still he managed the most smug smile James has ever seen. Slowly Michael licked his lips, like savouring the taste.

And to his horror, James realised, he mirrored the gesture. Bad habit of his. He quickly wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Michael’s gaze narrowed dangerously making James take another step back. “What happened?” His voice sounded a bit too breathless in his ears, but it didn’t matter. Anything to change the subject.

“Bad memories. Help me up.” Michael held out his hand to James, who took it, hesitating only a moment. He pulled the other man back to his feet and tried to keep his distance at the same time, trying not to think of what had just happened between them

“Would you close the door again.” He indicated the door leading to the chapel.

James nodded, and did as he was asked, gladly Michael did not mention ‘it’. As his back was turned Michael suddenly added. “Something bad has happened in there, some fifteen years ago. A priest got killed, right as he was conducting the service.”

James stopped, hand still on the doorhandle. “And you were there, at that time?” His instinct told him, he was treading on very thin ice here. He could hear Michael take a deep breath.

“Yes. I... saw it happen. Though I cannot remember the details. Only the blood. It was like he was torn apart.” Michael’s voice was soft and in stark contrast to the meaning of the words he uttered.

James slowly turned to look at him. He studied the other man. Michael’s eyes were downcast, he  looked distant. “Who did it?”

Michael looked at him, an odd smile playing on his lips. “A demon.”

James was startled by the answer. “A... demon?” What did he mean by that? But perhaps he shouldn’t wonder. Michael probably wasn’t older than fifteen years at the time it happened. It must have been traumatising and the man who did it, who could conduct bloody murder in front of an audience, in a chapel.... Clearly a madman. A demon. Quite an accurate description, really. He should not pry to much in what was so unpleasant for Michael and could even cause fits of panic. “I’m sorry. Should we go back?”

Michael nodded slowly. As James passed him, he fell in step beside him and put a hand on his shoulder. “You will not go in there again.” It was not a request. Given what happened, James couldn’t find it in him to protest.

“I am sorry. I wont.”

Michael squeezed his shoulder shortly, then lengthened his stride, to walk ahead of him.

As they walked back through the empty ballroom James caught himself, brushing his thumb over his lips. He wasn’t thinking of the gruesome events that had happened here some fifteen years ago. Though there were questions. How? Why? What happened to the murderer and had Michael or anyone else been hurt. But they all got pushed to the back of his mind by the memory of they way Michael’s mouth had felt on his. And that he had – if just for a moment – enjoyed it. He felt heat creep up in his cheeks and he hoped Michael would not turn around and notice.  
###

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The painting mentioned here is “Der Nachtmahr” 1781, by Johann Heinrich Füssli (who actually did more than one painting to the topic) The painting will make another, more prominent, appearance in Chapter 6.
> 
> Though the area in Germany, this is set in, is mainly protestant around 1800, there were some catholic communities there. So I decided to make Michael’s principality catholic, to have the chapel look like it does and for the liturgy briefly mentioned.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A nightly interlude. Late at night James can’t sleep, neither can Michael.

_  
James stood in front of the white doors leading to the chapel. The candlelight gave them an eerie shine, almost like they glowed on their own. There was something on them though, a dark smudged marring the pure white. It was hard to concentrate and make out what it was. His vision blurred. James reached out, as if by touching the wood, he would be able to see better. All of a sudden his vision cleared, the smudges becoming sharply defined and clear. Blood. The doors were smeared with blood. James recoiled, but the doors swung open, without him even touching them.  
  
All instincts told him to turn around and run, but he couldn’t. He moved forward, passing the bloodsmeared doorwings. Burning candles lit the chapel, the light reflecting in the gilded statues, ornaments and altar. He felt dizzy, not knowing where to look to first. It was so beautiful and wrong. Why were there candles? A startling urgency seized him. Then he heard it, a soft mewling sound, a whimper. James shook his head, trying to focus on the sound. He walked around the benches of the first row and there right on the chapel floor lay Michael, writhing  in pain. Shocked James rushed forward. “Michael, Michael... no, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to come her again. I didn’t mean to...” He tried to grab the man’s shoulders, tried to drag him out of here but he couldn’t get a firm grip on him, his hands always slipping off.  
  
James stared at his hands. They were red. His focus slowly shifted and he saw that Michael lay in a pool of blood. His clothes weren’t actually black, like he had thought at first, but drenched with it. And he no longer moved but stared up at him with eyes white as snow that slowly filled with blood. It poured down Michael’s pale cheeks to mingle with the red pool on the floor, which slowly spread out from the dead body..._  
  
James woke with a gasp. For a moment he just lay there, heart beating madly. It had only been a dream. He stared up at the dark ceiling he could barely make out in the faint light that came from the last embers in the hearth. The images of the dream pressed in on him. He felt stifled, by his blanket, by the room, the darkness. Abruptly he sat up and got out of bed. He stepped to the hearth, took the candelabra from the mantelpiece. His fingers found the matches there, and he lit one by the embers in the fireplace, then the candles. A relieved sigh escaped his lips. The golden light of the tiny flames pushed back the night’s darkness to the corners of the room. James put the candelabra onto the desk by the window, then pushed back the heavy drapes to look out. He rested his forehead against the cold windowpanes, peering out into the darkness.  
  
Clouds passed the bright moon, shortly coming into clear view in the cold light, before being obscured by the darkness of the night’s sky. James grew calmer, the dream fading from his memory and loosing its harshness.  
  
James thoughts drifted to the painting he had seen yesterday in Michael’s gallery. The woman with that hideous trolllike creature in her chest. The scene made all too much sense all of a sudden. A nightmare. He couldn’t stop himself but threw a quick glance back over his shoulder, checking his bed for any creatures that might have crawled out of the darkness onto it to haunt him. “Stupid.” He flinched at how strange his voice sounded in the empty room. Now that was another reason why he would never want something like that in his home. It gave one all too much weird ideas and it wasn’t like you wouldn’t find enough ghost-stories already lurking in every bog and  ruined castle in the highlands.  
  
He looked back out the window. On an impulse he opened the latch and pushed one casement open. The cold air washing over him made him shiver, yet it didn’t stop him from leaning out of the window. His long linen nightshirt did nothing to protect him from the cold, yet he welcomed the feel, that helped clear his mind. He looked down to where he knew Michael’s own bedroom lay and realised with a start, that there was light shining from the window there. The snow acted like a blank canvas the light painted on in shadows. He could make out the braces between the windowpanes and then noted the dark shape, that must mean someone was standing there. So Michael couldn’t sleep either. As James gaze looked, he realised he himself was throwing a shadow, his own window showing as a pattern of light and shadow in the snow of the backyard gardens.  
  
Quickly he stepped back. A soft grunt escaped his lips and he shook his head. ‘How stupid is this, why do I worry that he might notice. I don’t have to hide.’ He licked his lips. ‘I can deal with all the flirting he throws at me, he probably just does it to rile me.’  
  
‘But what about the kiss?’ James’ treacherous mind prompted. He moved back and sat down on the bed, pulling the blanket around himself, huddling under it for warmth while the window was still standing half ajar, allowing cold air to slip into the room.    
  
He tried to get to grips with what had happened between them. Michael had kissed him. He found he could not dismiss that as easily as the fleeting touches and ambivalent words Michael liked to drop in their conversations. James could ignore those, like he ignored it when Michael called him “his” English diplomat or something the like. Nervously James’ tongue darted out again to wet his lips. Well clearly Michael hadn’t been himself as he kissed him and he had never dared something of the sort before. But then he hadn’t stopped when he seemed to regain more control over himself. James remembered the way Michael had slowly licked over his lips, sucked at them, and then...  
  
That had not felt like Michael was dazed, traumatised or didn’t know what he was doing. No it had felt much to nice for that. Quickly James put a foot down on that thought, but another inserted himself instead. Why had he kissed back? ‘Oh God. I’ve kissed him back. Perhaps he didn’t notice. Or thinks he was imagining things.’ Though the smug smile that had spread on Michael’s face after James had pulled away indicated otherwise. ‘What’s gotten into me. I’ve never...’ He had never  before been interested in men. Except for one short infatuation he had felt as a boy but he dismissed the memory immediately.  
  
He rubbed his thumb over his lips. Michael had had the courtesy to not mention what had passed between the, so that might mean that he had already dismissed the little incident. So it was really just stupid for him to linger on it and give a simple kiss so much thought.  
  
There was a knock on the door. James flinched, his heart hammering wildly. “Who...” the word came out as a croak and he stopped. The door was pushed open. Michael stood there dressed only in a white shirt, that stood halfway open. The candlelight accented the hard features, cheekbones, chin, casting the long neck into shadows. For a moment James just stared, while heat crept up into his face. He noted how the open shirt revealed a lot of Michael’s chest and the light dusting of hair on it.  
  
Michael was speaking uncommonly soft. “I’m sorry, but I noted the light from your window... “ Michael stopped as his gaze travelled to said window. He looked surprised to find it open.  
  
James stood up and quickly walked over to close it. “I just woke. I had a bad dream and thought some cold air might help to clear my mind again.” As he turned round it was to find Michael had closed the door and had come closer. They were still two meters apart, yet it was much to close for James' comfort.  
  
“A bad dream?” Michael took a step closer. James was hard pressed not to step back instinctively. What was the man doing to him? What did he let the man to him? That thought made him pause.  
  
+++  
  
James looked delicious, standing there. His brown hair was a tossled mess, his pale skin was flushed and his lips were red and glistened wetly. Michael couldn’t stop but stare at them. They had looked inviting before, now that he had had a taste of them and that mouth they were tempting. He watched as James licked his lips. Something he did quite often without being aware of.  
  
He was his, he wanted him. Normally he wouldn’t hesitate to take what he wanted, but James had shown so much stubborness and ‘fire’ He didn’t want to destroy that. That was what drew him closer, and anyway, he felt confident. James had kissed him back and had enjoyed it. It was only a matter of time.  
  
Still the urge to just grab the younger man rose from deep inside him. Like a whisper it crept along his nerves.  
  
 _Want! Mine!_  
  
“Yes.” For a moment James looked tense, then suddenly he stepped forward. “About the chapel.”  
  
“Ah.” The mention of the cursed place made Michael realise how cold it had gotten in James’ bedroom. A chill crept into his voice. “You should not have gone there.”  
  
“You didn’t tell me I was not allowed to. Otherwise, of course, I would have refrained to do so.” James sounded calm and almost nonchalant.  
  
Michael gave him a long appraising look. He suddenly had the suspicious feeling the other man played him, or tried to. “Would you now? I find that hard to believe. You would have gone out into the snow the first night, despite me telling you not to.”  
  
A quirky smile played around James’ lips. “You can hardly draw a comparison there. One was me displaying all my...” he pursed his lips, thinking for a moment, “Scottish stubbornness in regaining what was mine. Or helping a poor creature in need, yes, that does sound more flattering now, does it not. The other would be me respecting your wishes as my host in regard of your property.”  
  
“My wishes regarding ... what is mine. I am glad that you are willing to obey those.” James might not yet be aware of it, but Michael very much considered him his. Still he seemed to sense some of the innuendo in Michael’s words, as he fidgeted slightly. Not so nonchalant as he tried to appear after all.  
  
“Well, as long as they seem sound and sensible enough.”  
  
“Oh, so you put yourself up as my judge?”  
  
James frowned. “No, I ... “  
  
Michael couldn’t help but laugh, interrupting any defence from James’ part. “You make me wonder sometimes how you faired as a diplomat.”  
  
James stayed calm. “Sir” he stressed the formal adress, “you do have me at a certain disadvantage here. Normally I am not asked to conduct diplomatic talks after waking from a nightmare, dressed only in a night-shirt, in my bedroom.”  
  
Michael slowly licked his lips. “I would not say that your current appearance works to your disadvantage, James.” Delighted Michael watched as the words made the other man blush but not back down. Instead James’ own tongue flicked over his lips, though only to have James press his lips together as he seemed to notice the involuntary gesture.  
  
“But,” he took a slow breath, “if my appearance is cause for distraction of any kind and thus to my advantage, should you not be more wary.”  
  
“I fear I am quite safe, since you do not seem to be the kind of diplomat who exploits such an unfair advantage.”  
  
“I might yet learn.” For a moment there was something grim James eyes.  
  
It startled Michael, opened his mouth for a reply, but then closed it again.  
  
James smirk sent a little pleasant shiver down his spine. “See!” There was a moment their eyes met directly. Michael wanted to step closer, look deeper but before he could react, James spoke on. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I feel I’m getting tired again. Thank you for your concern though and that you took it upon yourself to see after my wellbeing.”  
  
Michael would have loved to get another kiss from those smirking lips, but it seemed like the opportune moment had passed. ‘Distracted from my goal by my English Diplomat.’ “Of course. Good Night. I hope the rest of it is filled with more pleasant dreams.” He left, James’ “Good Night” accompanying him on the way out.  
  
+++  
  
After Michael had gone James doused the candles. The room fell back into darkness and he noticed it had gotten quite cold. He slipped back into bed and tried to relax. He had enjoyed the encounter much more than should be decent. Michael kept him on edge and once he had started to ignore the fact, that what he was doing could be called flirting  - with another man - he had enjoyed the little verbal sparring. Anyway, he refused to let the man corner him. Verbally... or otherwise.  
  
The dreams that followed once he was asleep were far from nightmares, nonetheless they were disturbing if in an entirely different way. But his mind had the courtesy of leaving no memories of them when morning dawned.  
  
###########  
tbc


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Discussions about art and what is appropriate behaviour for a host and his guest, plus a ride out in the snow. More Michael’s POV with revelations about Michael’s past + lots of UST between Michael and James.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since the painting mentioned in previous chapters is featured more prominently here and Füssli painted some ‘Nachtmahr/Alptraum’ paintings, a link to the one I was thinking of  
> http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/5/56/John_Henry_Fuseli_-_The_Nightmare.JPG

The next day James found Michael wasn’t here but gone out early in the morning. Information he had wrested from Michael’s valet, by use of the limited German he knew. If he got it right, there was some trouble with bandits, that one of the farmers in Michael’s area had reported. James felt somewhat exhausted after the ‘conversation’ with Ferdinand, if one could call it a conversation. But it left him with a new word in his repertoire of limited German. ‘Räuber’ Though he still thought that it sounded like something a cat would cough up.  
  
So Michael had apparently gone to see to the troubles himself and James spent most of the day in the library. Yet instead of enjoying the tranquility, he found himself bored. As Michael didn’t return that day, James was getting restless and maybe a bit worried for his host. So he decided to head off to bed early. He woke up at the break of dawn to a commotion outside. He got dressed quickly, but then hesitated and slowly headed downstairs only to nearly miss Michael, who just headed to his own rooms, followed by his valet. But Michael stopped halfway through the door, turned round and looked at him. The sight startled James. There was blood on Michael’s face and dark spots on his coat as well. Michael looked exhausted, but he smiled as their eyes met, he gave a slight nod before disappearing behind doors that closed behind him. He didn’t leave his rooms for the rest of the day. James was informed – again – by Michael’s valet, that he was to wary and tired and would spend the day in bed. To get any information on what had happened proved pointless, with his inability of understanding the servant.  
  
Everything seemed back to normal the day after. After breakfast he tried to ask questions as to what had happened with the bandits and if Michael was alright, but Michael just brushed these questions aside, as of no concern of James’, and started mocking him somewhat, if he was afraid of simple bandits. So James gave up on getting an answer but resolved to change the topic. “I couldn’t help notice a certain painting in your gallery. It showed, well I guess it was a symbol for a nightmare. And I was wondering, why you decided to have it in your gallery?”  
  
Thus they found themselves in the gallery in front of the painting of the sleeping woman in white with the troll on her chest.  
  
James gazed at the painting from some paces away, while Michael had stepped closer, but then had turned to stand beside the painting, observing James. “So you find it... disturbing? Hideous?”  
  
“No, not hideous, though the way it is painted is... it looks like it isn’t quite finished. Despite its size it looks somewhat like a sketch to me.”  
  
“Rough.. somewhat hazy. Like a dream, no?”  
  
James blinked surprised at the comparison. “Put like that I guess it makes sense. I find it disturbing though, it feels unpleasant, not something one would like to look at.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
James put his head to one side and tried to take the painting in. It was something in the whole composition that irritated him. “For one, the colours. You have all that black and brown and dark red and than in stark contrast the white figure of the woman in the middle. The way she rests there looks painful, not like she is sleeping, but like... “ he licked his lips, searching for the right word.  
  
Michael watched him closely. “Like she fell and her body is broken?”  
  
“Maybe...” But something didn’t sit right with that description either. “To be honest, I would not like to have that displayed in my home. Plus have this troll-like creature stare out at me all the time. And I can’t quite come to terms with that strange horse-head, that seems to float up from the darkness behind those curtains.” James took some steps to one side, gaze still fixed on the painting but it was like he could not escape the bulging stare of the hunched creature.  
  
“Alp.”  
  
“Pardon?”  
  
“It’s an ‘Alp’, that trollike creature. A nightly ghost you might call it. It’s were the German word for nightmare comes from. ALPtraum. Though if you take your English ‘nightmare’, there is the creature again. Nachtmahr. Both mean similar ghostlike creatures of the night. I like to think of it as... a demon.” Michael turned toward the picture. His thumb brushed lightly over the canvas.  
  
“So, not a troll more a demon. Well I can’t find much appeal in a demon on my walls either.”  
  
Michael smirked. “What if it were a beautiful one?”  
  
James thought it better not to answer that. “Why did you say she fell. I mean, I agree, the way her body is twisted, it looks like it. But when you think about it, it doesn’t make sense. Where from should she have fallen. I guess it’s more that she is slipping off the bed.”  
  
Michael’s gaze grew distant for a moment. “Have you ever ... Do you ever dream of falling?” Then he suddenly turned back toward the painting. “The way her neck is bent backwards... “ His finger traced the painted curve of the white neck that was twisted so far back that it looked painful. He continued softly. “I can’t help think she might break, if she slipped down. But the demon on her chest is keeping her from falling, keeping her safe actually.”  
  
James’ eyes widened. “That surely is an – interesting – way of putting it.” Hesitantly he came closer, searching for what Michael was seeing in the painting. Something in it clearly spoke deeply to the man and James felt curious.  
  
“Strange that you actually picked my favourite painting.” Michael’s finger brushed over James’ cheek, just as light and tender as he had the painting before. James looked sharply at him, but refused to back away. He merely crossed his arms in front of his chest.  
  
Michael seemed prepared to draw back, but as James did not move there was an odd flicker of emotion in his grey eyes. Long fingers continued to caress his cheek and he used his thumb to brush over his lips.  
  
James forced himself to stay still and look at Michael with, what he hoped, was a stoic expression.  
If he ran the man would only see it as a triumph and chase after him. So he decided to stand his ground and make it clear that his attentions were unwanted.  
Only his heart hammering against his ribs betrayed him. (And the strange tight hot feeling that spread from his stomach). His jaw clenched. He had to tell him no, but in a diplomatic way. Reluctantly he parted his lips, his tongue flicked out, licking his lips - and brushing against Michael’s thumb.  
  
‘What am I doing!’ Shocked James broke the contact by quickly stepping back and turning away. He felt even more mortified as he saw Michael’s valet standing close by, just waiting to be acknowledged. His face was unreadable, as always. James found the man unnerving, even though right at that moment he offered a much needed escape from a situation that had gone somewhat wrong.  
  
“Ah, Ferdinand, was gibt es?”  
  
“Matthias ist zurück aus Baden, mit dem Gepäck. Ich habe mir erlaubt, es in die Zimmer seiner Erlaucht bringen zu lassen und es auszupacken.”  
  
“Sehr gut.” With a nod Michael dismissed his valet.  
  
James hadn’t been able to catch even snippets of what that was about, his mind still in uproar. What was he doing, had been doing, had maybe wanted to do just moments before?  
  
“He just informed me that your luggage has arrived. You will find your belongings in your rooms upstairs.”  
  
The words brought James sharply back to reality. “What do you mean, my luggage?” His luggage had been sent to Baden, how could it be here. “What have you been up to?” James demanded with a frown, turning back to look at Michael. The strange feeling he just had been experiencing mere moments ago, being replaced by that of irritation.  
  
“I’ve sent someone to fetch your things.” Michael spoke nonchalantly, as if it were the most logical thing to do. It only riled James.  
  
“I did not ask you to do that.”  
  
“No. But is it not considered good manners for a host to look after his guests wellbeing? And though I do not mind seeing you in my clothes, I thought you would tire of them, especially because they do not quite fit, and wish to wear your own things again.”  
  
James could not deny that the prospect of dressing in his own clothes did very much appeal to him, still the fact that he had not been consulted remained. “And I thought it good manners to confer with the guest, when it comes to the question as of what is to be done with his things.”  
  
“So what?” There was a mocking undertone in Michael’s voice. “Do you want me to send your things back again.”  
  
Did he try to make him look childish in his claims? But James didn’t let Michael bait him. He made sure his voice stayed calm, though he did nothing in trying to hide the edge his annoyance lent his voice. In fact he clung to it. Being annoyed with the man was much easier to deal with at the moment than what else he might make him feel. “No. I merely would ask for the courtesy to be consulted before you decide matters concerning myself in the future.”  
  
Michael took a step toward him, eyes narrowed an annoyed glint in them, but then he stopped, looking like he just realised something. A slow smile spread on his lips. The sudden change of emotions unsettled James more, than if he had snapped back at him.  
  
“I really do want you to feel comfortable here, as my guest. Please, accept my apology for acting rashly without consulting you first.” Michael’s soft sincere words made goosebumps rise on his skin. He felt well and properly disarmed. He licked his lips before he gave a slight nod.  
“Since you have accepted my apologies before on several occasions, it seems rather fair for me to accept yours now, too.” He slowly took a deep breath. “Now, since you have gone to the trouble of sending someone to fetch my luggage, I might as well change back into my own clothes. If you’ll excuse me.” He gave a short bow.  
  
“Of course. And you might want to put on something warm to wear outside. If you decide to accept my invitation to go riding after lunch, that is.”  
  
Riding. Outside, Fresh air! By god, James really felt like he needed that. He accepted graciously, before heading back to his bedroom.  
  
+++  
  
  
The crisp air filled his lungs, but in a pleasant way. Snow hurled to the side as they sent their horses in a gallop  along the snow-covered road. James, having cursed the snowy forest only 5 days ago, now found himself marvelling at its beauty. But now he was warm, wearing brown coat, gloves, boots and hat over a set of his own (more colourful, he couldn’t help noting) clothes again. And he was in the company of someone who clearly knew the terrain, knew where they were going and who it would be terrible hard to loose sight of in the white landscape. Michael rode a black horse, matching his long black coat, hat and well everything. James couldn’t help wondering why the man decided to wear so bleak clothes, but then he probably did not get much in contact with fashion styles when he stayed at his estate, most of the time, as it seemed.  
  
Michael halted his horse when they came to a crossroads, marked only by a sign in the deep snow. Though as James slowed his horse and let it come up beside Michael’s he noted one of the roads showed signs of travel, probably with a sleigh.  
  
Michael looked out in one direction, seemingly lost in though. James was ready to ask what was wrong, when Michael turned towards him. “There is something I would like to show you.”  
  
“Gladly. What is it?” Though James could not quite fathom, what there could be to show except for trees and snow and probably rocks the frosty beauty of the landscape seemed to have its limits.  
  
Michael led his horse along the untouched path and James followed suit, urging his horse to walk beside Michael’s.  
  
“I have to admit, I found the snow a nuisance and cursed it when I first came her.”  
  
“And now?”  
  
“I think it looks beautiful.” He grinned. “Especially with the prospect of a warm fire and something hot to drink, waiting back at your estate.”  
  
Michael chuckled. “Natures dangers kept at bay, yes. It is beautiful, when one is not forced to struggle against it for survival.”  
  
“Is that why you choose to stay out here and not in on of the bigger cities?” As much as James loved the Scottish highlands and his estates there, the thought alone, of being cooped up there all the time drove him crazy. He loved the bustling activity and distractions of Edinburgh or better still, London.  
  
“No. As I told you, people annoy me.” Then his gaze became fixed on James. “The more I find great pleasure in exceptions.”  
  
“What do you find annoying in other people then?” James felt a feeling of delightful warmth creep up his neck.  
  
“Take the nobles at court. Their constant chattering about things of no value. They talk all the time, without really having anything to say.”  
  
“You may be right on some occasions. But it’s not as if the courts were only filled with featherbrained courtiers. As I experienced, one can find the most intriguing people at the most unlikely places.”  
  
“I do not have a lot of patience for such a search.” Michael replied, before he noted the quirky little knowing smile James gave him. Michael frowned slightly, then laughed as he grasped the double meaning of his words. “An unlikely place. Well... I am to show you one you might find even more unlikely or strange.” He nodded to what lay ahead.  
  
James looked. The snow covered path they were currently taking, curved into a more dense part of the forest and among the skeletal treebranches, that seemed to greedily reach up into the blue sky, he saw a single tower rising. James had not expected to find a building out here in the forest. Nothing bigger than a farmers hut at least, surely nothing of such magnificence to warrant a tower. “What is this?” He looked questing at Michael who seemed content to simply let James guess. “A castle?”  
  
“No. Though as old as most castles and in as much disarray.”  
  
As they came closer it became apparent that the tower, that had looked so imposing from afar, was nothing more than a ruin, the roof having half collapsed. The rest of the building had faired no better. There was some sort of wall, spanning around it and the surrounding grounds. The wall had been half eaten away by the elements and the vegetation crawled over it, reclaiming the ground once wrested away from it. They stopped at what once must have been a gate. Michael got out of the saddle and James followed suit. “Better we leave the horses here. The ground beyond is treacherous.” There was some strange emotion in his voice James noted. But he couldn’t quite interpret it. They tied the horses reigns to some bushes.  
  
Up closer the buildings distinct shape became clearer. “Is this, was this a church?”  
  
Michael nodded.  
  
James looked around at the ground they were crossing. Now that he knew what he was looking at, he could make out the stone slabs jutting out of the ground. Most were covered by the snow and nearly none stood fully erect but they were leaning towards the ground. “And its graveyard?”  
  
“Yes. People think this place is cursed.”  
  
“Why?” The place was intriguing and James felt slightly – excited about its hinted at mystery. Suddenly Michael took his arm and held him back. He pointed to something ahead. “That is why.” James looked. It took some time to make out what Michael meant. Half the church was missing, but it hadn’t simply crumbled to the ground because there was no ground. It and the ground it had stood on where gone, instead there was empty air; a cliff.  
  
“There was a landslide. It happened without warning. The people still speak about it in hushed voices, though it happened more than a hundred years ago. There are the wildest stories about why it happened. The wrath of god or the devil himself being behind it.” Michael sounded strangely amused.  
  
James wanted to walk forward but Michael’s hand still held him back. He looked questioning at him but Michael’s gaze was not on him but on the cliff ahead. Slowly Michael let go. “Be careful. The snow is treacherous and I don’t want you to fall. The drop is deep.”  
  
+++  
  
Michael knew exactly how deep. He walked after James who slowly edged closer to the drop, careful with his footing. “I used to come here as a young boy. I was fascinated with this place,” he heard himself say. Though he didn’t know why he did tell James about it. On an impulse he had decided to show James this place.  
  
The spot where he had died, only eight years old. Dropping down the steep cliff.  
  
Perhaps it was because of the painting, it felt like James had noticed something, even if only unconsciously. Michael felt himself respond to that.  
  
“I can see that. You were not afraid of the stories then?” James had reached the drop, going down on one knee in the snow to look over the edge. Michael stayed right behind him, though he didn’t look down. He didn’t need to.  
  
“No, I wasn’t. Or rather... that’s not true. I was scared but it only excited me. I was fascinated with the thought of what I might find here. Maybe I would even encounter the devil himself.” He smiled at the memory of what a foolish boy he had been, making up stories of how he would trick the devil he found here, tricking him into giving him some magical treasure.  He had been carefree never able to imagine what really waited for him here.  
  
But it had found him – in the end. Unconsciously Michael put his hand to his chest and closed his eyes. He saw the cliff as it had been then. No snow, there was green grass and wild flowers. There had been strong rain the days before and he was excited to finally get out again. He had know this place so well, that it held no fear for him. Stupid careless boy. He had climbed along the edge of the cliff to get to the half crumbled vestry, but the ground was loosened from the rain and suddenly gave way. He remembered the sharp pain when he hurt his arm as he fell, hitting a rock or gravestone, then the gutwrenching feeling when there was nothing under him, just emptiness. The fall. He couldn’t remember hitting the ground. There had been blackness, then he had opened his eyes, but was unable to move. Everything was pain, his whole body was broken and he was choking. Choking on his own blood. Cold fear had filled his mind.  
  
 _Mi -  cha  -  el         Mi-cha-el         Michael!_  
  
The voice had been like a caress, soothing that fear. He had reached out for it, welcomed it...  
  
They had found him. His father and Ferdinand. It had grown dark already. He was still lying there, in his own blood, but he had not a scratch on him.     
  
He opened his eyes. James was looking at him strangely. Michael realised he had gripped his own coat, pressing his hand against his chest. Slowly he let his hand sink. Still he found bright blue eyes studying him. Usually being under such scrutiny irritated him quickly. But he liked it when James looked at him. He held out his hand. James took it and he pulled the smaller man up to his feet.  
  
“This place. It holds a lot of memories for you.” It was not a question. “When was the last time you came here?”  
  
 “Years.”  
  
James looked surprised, then he licked his lips. A little habit of his, that Michael greatly enjoyed. “There are places in the Highlands close to my estate, where I used to play as a child. I usually visit them every time I am there.” James gave a little embarrassed laugh and shrugged. “I guess I am somewhat sentimental.” He looked down, then seemed a little startled to find that Michael still held on to his hand.  
  
Michael stepped closer, not letting go of James’ hand but pulling it up to his face. It looked like James would let him do whatever he wanted, then with a sharp twist of his wrist James broke the hold, pulling back. He turned around and took a couple steps away.  
  
Michael watched as James clenched his hands then shook his head and sighed. Michael waited a moment if James would move, than stepped closer again. He put a hand on James’ shoulder, then slowly started to rub  over his coatclad back. There was a little flinch of acknowledgement at the touch, almost like his shoulders would tense up but then James visibly relaxed.  
  
“Why?” James’ voice was strained and he cleared his throat before he continued. “What are you playing at? I am a man.”  
  
Michael couldn’t help a little smile. “I know. I am not playing. I want you.”  
  
+++  
  
The plain statement drove heat into James’ face and he was glad he had his back toward the man. But as uncomfortable as the subject was he had to get it over with, to know what the man wanted. And for his sake, to know what he himself wanted. “So you like... prefer men?”  
  
The hand vanished from his back and James noted its sudden absence sharply. Then Michael’s body leant against his. “Men, women... it doesn’t make a difference.”  
  
“There are those who would argue about that.” His voice came out a little breathless.  
  
“Are they important?”  
  
James felt Michael move behind him but would not turn around. That conversation was hard enough without being distracted by Michael’s piercing gaze on him. Or his arrogant smirk, like he owned him. That thought made James put a hard edge to his next words. “What about me? What if I think it’s not right.”  
  
“Well then, tell me what you think.”  
  
“I like women.” James’ voice sounded firm  
  
“Yet you told me you aren’t married to one. Why, I wonder.”  
  
“The opportunity wasn’t right yet.” Truth was, there had always been so many other thing to do and James had never given much thought to tying himself up in marriage. At court there were enough women just interested and willing to participate in a night of pleasure. That had always been enough, he never had had time for more.  
  
+++  
  
Michael was enjoying this. James was till al little reluctant,  but for all his bristling he didn’t say no.  
“Or you have secretly waited for another opportunity, to try something new.”  
James had his head bent, revealing a small strip of bare skin between his coat, shawl and hairline.  
Michael had slipped off one glove and used two of his fingers to brush lightly over the exposed skin. James shivered under his touch and he gave a little moan.  Nearly inaudible, but it was enough for Michael to know that any argument James brought up, would be invalid in the end.  
  
“I have not,  I have never thought of another man like that!”  
  
“Yet you have returned my kiss. You could have pushed me back. Anyone would have, if he didn’t like it.”  
  
James didn’t move, when he spoke it sounded pressed. “That... that still doesn’t mean that I am prepared to do anything more.”  
  
“Yet.” Michael moved closer bending down, he kissed the bare skin at James’ neck.  
  
James gasped, surprised or with pleasure, but then suddenly he stepped away and turned to face Michael. “You seem very certain of yourself. Of me!” The voce was laced with anger and a thickening accent.  
  
 _Mine_  
  
“Yes. I want you. I get what I want.”  
  
James snorted. “Not arrogant at all, are we? It does not make for a very endearing trait.”  
  
“I am not an endearing person. And yet... you want me. Even though it scares you to admit it.”  
  
+++  
  
Afterwards James admitted to himself, that it was a stupid idea. A very stupid idea. He had played right into Michael’s hands. But he wanted to prove a point. He thought he would, he thought he could control himself and laugh at the man’s face. So he stepped closer, all determined, his plan all sound and reasonable in his head.  
  
 He was smaller, so this was not like he would normally have gone about it. So he grabbed Michael’s coat-front, pulling him closer. For a moment he had the pleasure of seeing a mixture of surprise and maybe a little shock in the man’s face. But then it was replaced by a smirk. With an angry growl James pulled him closer and mashed their mouths together. He wasn’t delicate about it, he wanted to prove a point. He would not submit to this man’s wishes. He would make up his mind, and decide that his interest in the man’s kiss had merely been a short moment of confusion.  
  
He sucked hard on Michael’s lips before he pushed his tongue into his mouth. Michael’s mouth opened willingly. He felt Michael’s arms suddenly coming up around him, and his body pressed against his. A rush of adrenaline flooded James’ nerves. He forgot, that this was not supposed to feel good. Michael’s warm mouth, his tongue pushing against his, teeth nipping at his lips gently. The ferocity of the initial kiss died down, leaving it slow burning, languorous passion in its place .  
  
One of Michael’s hands cupped the back of his head. He barely noticed as his hat got pushed off. Strong fingers tangled in his hair. The taste and feeling of Michael’s mouth was all he was focused on. Warm, the strange taste of a cigar, the way he sucked at his tongue...  
  
It made him feel light headed and warm inside. ‘I want this.’ The thought sent another shiver down his spine. ‘I’ve got to stop. I don’t want to stop. That is not what I wanted to prove to him, god he will think...’ James forced himself to draw back. One half of him wanted to turn and run the other to grab Michael and kiss him again. He managed to do neither, just take a step back.  
  
Michael blinked, startled as the kiss ended. His grey eyes looked bright and pleased smiled played around his lips. “I did not expect you to change your mind so quickly.” He said bemused.  
  
“I did not, I merely tried to... find out something.” He added weakly. He had wanted to prove him wrong but all he had done was prove  himself wrong.  
  
“And did you?”  
  
He would not be called a liar. “Yes.”  
  
Michael stepped closer and lent into him. “What did you find out? That you enjoyed it?” His warm breath spilled over James’ cheek as he brushed his lips against them. James felt he didn’t want to get away. Instead he let himself enjoy the feeling that washed over him. “You thought you wouldn’t.” Warm lips brushed against his ear.  
  
James swallowed, his eyes drifting close. His breath hitched in his throat.  
  
“Then come to me when you want more.”  With those word Michael broke the contact, turned round and headed back for the horses.  
  
James stared after him, heart still hammering wildly. ‘By god I’m a fool.’ Slowly he made to follow.  
  
###############  
tbc


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What is James doing in Michael’s bedroom in the middle of the night? Also, an unpleasant incident makes the two men go for each others throat – in more than one way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI:Corrected the stupid mistake I made with the horse. Of course the leg wasn't broken, just hurt in another way.(I feel really stupid about that.)  
> ###

James sat in a big armchair in front of the fire in his bedroom. He had his feet propped up on a footstool and an open book in his lap. His gaze though, was resting on the dancing flames. Absently his fingers caressed over the open page, while his mind was thinking of a very different texture than dry paper underneath his fingers.  
  
He puzzled over Michael. And himself. No use denying it, the man had turned his head completely, and that with one kiss. Well, not just the kiss. Despite being arrogant and full of himself he was interesting to talk to and James had to admit he even –in a way – liked the flirting. And there was something James couldn’t quite make out. His instincts told him not to get to close to the man, something was off. But perhaps it was just that his good reason tried to warn him to get into untested waters, feeling attracted to a man. But he was one to not always listen to ‘good reason’.  
  
He closed the book he was reading without marking the page and lifted it up to his lips. A thoughtful expression on his face, he pressed his lips against the leather spine, not noticing what he was doing.   
  
If only he didn’t have this nagging feeling that Michael was just playing with him, teasing him and wanting to make a fool out of him, for whatever reason. Or why else did he wait till James kissed him and then not do anything more. Was the man made of marble? He had seemed to want him and at that moment, James was embarrassed to admit, he could have done a lot of things to him without having him object. Despite being in the middle of nowhere out in the snow. But Michael had stopped, just like that. Then told him he had to come to him if he wanted more. No, WHEN he wanted more. That had been his word. Arrogant!  
  
Absently James sucked at the spine of the book. Startled he let the book sink, as the odd taste of old leather registered. He shook his head and stood up. Since he stopped reading it, he should take it back into the library. He had no intention in continuing with it anyway, the story having been somewhat dull. He took the candelabra and headed out of his bedroom.   
  
Everything was quiet and dark outside, everyone having gone to bed already. He hadn’t looked at his pocketwatch. So he had no idea how late it had gotten. He made his way downstairs, heading through Michael's salon to the library, to return the book. When he came back the same way, he noted that the fire in the salon’s hearth had already burnt down completely. So Michael must have gone to bed early, after they had parted for the night, after a game of cards. James looked over to the door that led to Michael’s rooms. There was no light shining under the door. Reluctantly he walked closer.  
  
He shouldn’t.  
  
But he had kissed the man. Clearly some boundaries no longer applied.  
  
His heart started beating faster as his fingers curled around the doorhandle and he slowly opened the door. It swung open soundlessly. Still James froze, waiting, straining his hearing. But the room beyond was silent and dark. James stepped in.  He hadn’t been to Michael’s bedroom – yet.   
  
The room was a little smaller than the salon outside. Somehow James had imagined it would reflect Michael’s style in dressing, all dark, but what he could see by candlelight were cream-coloured walls with a border in a smoky blue colour.  
Instead of the darker wood used in the salon and library, the furniture here was light as well, the drapes used on the big bed were the same smoky blue that appeared on the walls and again on the upholstery of the chairs and chaise longue in one corner of the room.  
  
But James attention was quickly captured by the man lying in the bed and all thoughts on furniture became irrelevant. Michael was asleep, resting on his back, the duvet pushed back to only cover him from the middle of his waist down. His lean body was well defined by muscles, even when he was relaxed in sleep. The sight made James catch his breath. Nervously he licked his lips. Michael sure could compete with any depiction of male beauty a sculptor could come up with. ‘No’, James found himself thinking, ‘he would beat any sculpture, because he’s real.’   
  
An almost desperate halfsmile appeared on James lips. He shouldn’t find the other man so attractive, he really shouldn’t. As he shouldn’t enjoy kissing him, though he found he couldn’t quite come up with a good reason as to why not.  
  
‘Allright, apparently I enjoy kissing you... but...’, there should be a but, ‘but only on Tuesdays.’ He felt a bit giddy at the stupid thought. He had walked closer to the bed, without even noticing he had done so. It felt too late to turn back anyway.  
  
‘What are you playing at? You want me to want you, you want me to ... to do what I want?’ He wasn’t really making much sense to himself anymore. He turned away, but then hesitated. Carefully he put the candelabra on the nightstand beside the bed. One hand braced against the headboard of the bed, he bent down. He hesitated a moment, his lips not yet touching Michael’s. A thrill of excitement ran down his spine. What would Michael do if he found him in his bedroom, kissing him. There was a tightening feeling in his stomach, but it wasn’t out of worry, but of the certainty that he would not leave, whatever.  
  
Michael’s eyes snapped open all of a sudden. But instead of grey surrounding black pupils, James stared into empty white. Shocked he reeled back, but his eyes were locked on the blind stare. He couldn’t move. Milky white and shining, they were staring at him, into him, draining him.  
  
James’ heart was racing and he started to feel lightheaded. Suddenly a hand grabbed his right arm. He gasped, shocked, for a moment breaking eye-contact to look where Michael’s long fingers curled around his wrist. As he looked back, he found Michael gazing at him out of sleepy eyes. A bemused smile glinted in their grey depths.   
  
“What are you doing?”  
  
“Your eyes!” His heart was still racing madly.  
  
“What?”  
  
“They were white, you opened them and...” He blinked. He sounded crazy, like he was babbling.   
  
Michael let go of his wrist and sat up, the blankets slipping further down. Michael looked guarded at him.  
  
James frowned and blinked. He had seen it, hadn’t he? He tried to explain. “You might not realise it, but it happened before. A few days back, in the chapel.” There was something wrong. He hadn’t just been imagining that either, or had he? Slowly his heart stopped racing. Leaving James empty and uncertain.  
  
“I told you that place harbours bad memories for me.” Michael’s cold voice made James wince. “Have you just woken me up to talk about that?”   
  
What had he been thinking? James felt stupid. He looked at Michael. His grey eyes, black pupils wide in the dim light. He looked compelling, but 'normal', not as if there was something wrong with him. ‘Has my mind be playing tricks with me? He doesn't seem to know what I’m talking about. I am the one acting strange here.’ “I’m sorry. I didn’t ...” The words felt so hollow. ‘Perhaps it is better if I just leave now.’   
  
But he hesitated. He looked at Michael’s stern expression, the way he furrowed his brow. His gaze slipped down to a naked chest, and belly. Real, beautiful, clearly dangerous to James in only one way.  
   
Instead of leaving, he moved closer, put one hand on Michael’s naked shoulder to steady himself. Without allowing himself to waver or think he covered Michael’s mouth with his. That was what he had been thinking of doing as he stepped in here. Gently he nibbled at Michael’s lips, noting the slight tickling of Michael’s beard. It was light and when he looked at him he barely noticed that he always looked a bit unshaven, rough, but he could very well feel it.   
  
He licked his tongue over Michael’s lips, feeling how they slowly parted. James made a little sound and deepened the kiss. It wasn’t like the first time, when he was taken by surprise, or out in the snow, full of force and anger. It was slow, he took his time and was fully aware how much he was enjoying it. He felt Michael’s hand reaching up, long fingers dangling in his hair, massaging his scalp. Hs own hand on Michael’s shoulder tightened.  
  
James slowly broke the kiss, but stayed close, forehead resting against Michael’s. His breath spilled warm against the others wet lips. His heart was hammering against his ribcage, though the feeling wasn’t unpleasant, but thrilling. “I do accept this new form of apology. Actually, I like it better." Michael’s husky whisper spilled against James skin. James nipped at Michael’s lips again.  
  
“I will not apologise for being curious about you, though.”   
  
“I will gladly sate _some_ of that curiosity.” What Michael meant he showed by the way his hands suddenly were at James’ west, fingers starting to unbutton it. Something in James’ belly tightened. ‘He’s distracting you!’ the thought was clear in his mind, but he just couldn’t make himself care all to much.  
  
“That is not what I meant.” He managed to take a hold of Michael’s hands, stopping him and at the same time enjoying the feeling of touching the other man’s skin, his fingertips rubbing lightly over Michael’s hands. He licked his lips, noted how Michael was fixating on his mouth and licked his lips again, this time slowly and fully conscious of what he was doing. Michael gave him a heated look and there was a slight growl in his voice. “Continuo with this and you will not leave my bedroom tonight.”  
  
James jerked back at the mix of lust and threat in Michael’s voice. Yet it made him smile. Knowing that the other man wanted him that much. “Then I will better stop – for tonight.” He didn’t want this to go too far, too fast. Not when – the image of those white orbs came back, and with it the alarming feeling that something wasn’t right. “So...” he barely stopped himself from licking his lips again. “I better return to my own room.”  
  
Michael neither agreed nor disagreed, but watched him.  
  
James took a step back. Then he took his candelabra and went to the door. Just as he opened the door, he heard Michael say: “Next time you come into my bedroom, I wont let you leave.”  
  
The words sent a little shiver down James spine. He half turned to look at Michael. James licked his lips again. “Next time I will not want to leave.” Without waiting for an answer, he gently closed the door behind himself.  
  
++++  
  
Michael let him go.   
  
He felt a thrill of pleasure at the fact that James had sneaked into his bedroom at night... even if it could have gone wrong. He closed his eyes. That was another reason he didn’t care for people. It was harder to keep secrets when one got close to them. Especially when it were such charming English diplomats. Who despite trying so hard to resist decided to kiss him suddenly out in the snow... and wandered into his bedroom at night to... He smiled. He would love to know what he had been thinking about coming in here. Had he planned to just look at him, had he wanted to kiss him while he was asleep? He chuckled at the thought.   
  
He slipped down into his bed again, half pulling up the sheets around him. His hand came to rest on his chest and he absently caressed over it. ‘I must be careful. He mustn’t see, he mustn’t know.’ But then James seemed very much a man of reason not prone to superstitions. If he ignored his prying, distracted him, he would never guess and never know.  
  
Never...?  
  
Well, he had no idea yet, how long he wanted to keep him. Until he got bored? Until James too would start to annoy him? But that moment wasn’t here yet, until then he would greatly enjoy this.  
  
+++  
  
James overslept and was late for breakfast the next day. Michael had already finished and left him to eat by himself.  
  
He later found Michael in the library. As he entered the man was sitting on the settee, book in one hand, a glass dangling in the other. James took a long look at him, but then walked over to his reading spot, plucking a book he thought of reading from the shelve on his way. He had just settled down, blanket drawn over the shoulder facing the window, when Michael came over to him.   
  
“What are you reading?”  
  
He moved so close James could feel the warmth from him through the shirt and west he was wearing. On an impulse he reached up, put his hand on Michael’s neck and pulled him down. Michael let him, eyes shining with delight before he closed them as they kissed.   
  
“Apparently nothing, since you decided to distract me.”   
  
“Do you expect me to feel guilty about that?” His fingers started picking at James’ cravat. “Do you have to wear this?”  
  
James looked scandalised. “You can’t just not wear a cravat.”  
  
Michael raised an eyebrow tilting his head to one side, amused.  
  
“Well, apparently you can.” James conceded. He hadn’t seen Michael wear the essentiality of male attire, since he was here, except for when they went outside.   
  
“I would appreciate it, if you followed my example.”  
  
James frowned slightly. “Why?”  
  
“It would make it easier for me to do certain things to you. Things I am sure you would greatly enjoy.” Michael bent down, but instead of kissing his lips his mouth brushed against his chin, making James tilt his head slightly sideways. He gasped as Michael suddenly licked along his jaw, up to his ear, then gently sucked at his earlobe. James hadn’t realised that before, but apparently his ear had a direct connection to his cock. He moaned, biting his lip as he heard himself make such an obscene noise.  
  
Suddenly there was a loud crash from the door. Both men turned to look at the commotion, James feeling very self-conscious while Michael narrowed his eyes at the unwanted disruption.  
  
In the door to the library knelt a servant girl. There were shards of  porcelain on the ground, mixed with sugar, milk and tea, all accumulating in one big mess on the floor. She tried hastily to pick it all up. Her eyes were wide, she still had a look of shock as she quickly darted a glance at the two of them. Michael took some steps towards her, his expression speaking of his annoyance.   
  
The servant girl made a small scared sound. In her hurry to get everything together she cut herself on one of the shards. Her eyes suddenly grew wide, she looked from her finger to Michael and suddenly made a cross sign. As if just realising what she had been doing she pressed both her hands against her lips. “Verzeihung, verzeihung, verzeihung...” she stammered.  
  
Michael had stopped for a short moment, now he was quickly advancing towards her. “Was fällt dir ein!” His voice was a low hiss. He grabbed her arm, half dragging her up. The girl shrieked, then started sobbing. “Das wollte ich nicht. Ich, ich... Bitte... Ich werd’ auch nie wieder...”  
  
Michael gave her a rough shake. “Das glaube ich auch. Du kannst gleich deine Sachen packen!”  
  
“Nein... bitte-bitte, ich brauche die Arbeit doch...”  
  
James jumped from the windowsill shocked and startled by Michael’s violent outbreak. “Michael, what are you doing? Let her go. She doesn’t deserve this.” He took hold of Michael’s arm, the one he was holding the girl with, trying to keep him from shaking her.   
  
Michael turned on him. “Misch dich nicht ein! Du hast keine Ahnung!” He let go of the girl, who immediately scrambled to her feet and fled, still sobbing. He jerked his arm free of James’ grasp. James just grabbed him again, worried he might go after the girl. Wanting to stop the rage he saw in Michael’s eyes. “Just calm down!”  
  
Michael grew still, gaze narrowed to where James was holding him. “Lass... let go of me.”   
  
“Good, at last you remember I don’t understand German. What’s gotten into you?” James let go of Michael, but instead of giving an answer, the other man just stalked out of the room.  
  
James stared after him, puzzled at the rage he saw in Michael’s eyes. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to understand what had made him so angry. The girl had been shocked about them kissing, so she dropped the teaset. So you might take that off her wages, everything was fine again. She was just a servant, it was not like her opinion counted anything. And in a way, though he didn’t want to think too closely about it, he felt with her, startled about how easily he had changed his mind and had let himself be lured in by a man he hardly knew. Someone who dismissed him that easily. James frowned angrily. He could not be expected to be diplomatic about that.   
  
+++  
  
Rage burned in him. He didn’t care about the clumsy girl dropping the crockery, he had meant to rebuke her for not being discrete enough to ignore what was none of her business. But then he had seen the fear in her eyes, as she cut herself, he knew what she was thinking. That he had been responsible for that. He knew she had been listening to rumours, rumours that were all around him, that he ignored as long as noone ever said, did, asked anything directly.   
  
Crossing herself, the gesture born of fear and believe, had hit him like a whip. It had burnt.   
  
_Hurt! Kill!_  
  
He could not have superstitious servants acting like that.  
  
“Ferdinand!” He found the man in the corridor leading to the kitchens, giving instructions to one of the servants who had the right presence of mind to quickly excuse himself, as he saw Fürst Michael in his rage.    
  
Ferdinand, on the other hand, looked more worried than sacred, as Michael came closer. “The servant girl you sent with the tea. She has to go.”  
  
“Your lordship, please,  what happened?” The valet stayed calm.  
  
“I can’t have them telling tales behind my back, thinking they can keep me at bay by crossing themselves. What will they think of next? Exorcising me?” He gave a barking laugh.  
  
Just then the calm broke and Ferdinand looked shocked. “Your lordship, I am very sorry. I will talk to the girl right away. The people – they know you take care of them, whatever rumours fly around. I will make sure this doesn’t get out of hand.”  
  
“Michael!” James voice echoed in the long corridor. Very ungentlemanlike to yell like that.  
  
Michael turned away from Ferdinand, who gave a little bow and murmured: “Please leave this to me, I will see to it," then left in search of the servant girl.  
  
James was heading straight toward him, determined and angry. His blue eyes hard, lips that looked so soft, so kissable set in a grim line. “You might dismiss your servants like that, but I deserve some respect. What got you so riled?”  
  
“Not – here.” Michael pressed the words out between clenched jaws. He grabbed James arm, wanting to pull him along but the smaller man jerked free. Michael glared at him, then started walking. If he wanted to talk, he would have to follow him.   
  
A bit of the anger subsided when he heard James footsteps coming up behind him. He held the door to the salon for him and closed it behind them. James didn’t sit down he just kept standing in the middle of the room, glaring at him. “She just dropped some crockery, for gods sake, Michael. Just because... well she was startled. I don’t know, but by her reaction I guess you don’t often kiss men in your library. So there is no reason to loose your temper and threaten her like that.”  
  
“You have no idea...”  
  
“Then tell me!” James seemed determined to get answers.   
  
Michael turned away from him. How could he explain? Why should he have to explain himself at all?  
  
“DON’T!” There was a clear warning there. “Don’t dismiss me.”  
  
“You do realise this IS my estate and I can handle my affairs the way I want.”  
  
“Yes, but as...” James paused. There was a hint of uncertainty there, but as he continued, that had turned into something more like defiance. “I guess I came to the conclusion that you might care about my opinion of you.”  
  
Did he really?   
  
James continued as Michael didn’t answer him, his tone gone cold. “Please correct me, if I did get the wrong impression here.” Michael heard James take a deep breath as he still didn’t reply. “I will stop bothering you then.”  
  
Michael turned round quickly. James had turned away to leave, but Michael grabbed his arm. James froze, the look he gave him was cool and distant. Michael felt a strange mix of irritation and worry grow in him. “There are rumours...” he heard himself say.  
  
James frowned slightly, but he no longer looked like he would just walk out. Michael let go of his arm. He clenched his hands into fists, not admitting to himself that they were shaking slightly. James waited for him to continuo, but he didn’t know how. Then it hit him. It was so simple. He would tell him the truth. James was clearly a rational man, someone who was not prone to superstitions as he had proven at the ruins. So he would dismiss the rumours as primitive superstition and not give it any more thought.  
  
“There are rumours, that I am a demon.”  
  
James looked startled. “A demon, you, what?”  
  
“Look, there have always been stories surrounding this place, with the ruins of the church, the... incident in the chapel,... me. No-one dares to say anything to my face, but still they can’t completely hide what they are thinking. That girl, did you notice, before she crossed herself, she cut her finger on one of the shards, the way she looked at me then, shocked... she was thinking I did that, I was the reason. That is why I got angry.” He spoke softly, but the anger was still there, an undercurrent in his voice.  
  
“And you worry that those rumours might get out of hand..?”  
  
“I cannot have my servants questioning me.”  
  
James nodded slowly, understanding showing in his expression, making Michael relax. “Still I’d say it doesn’t help, if you threaten your servants.” He offered more gently.  
  
“Let that be my concern.”  
  
“I’m only offering advice.” There was again a slight edge in James voice. A bit of a challenge.  
  
Michael didn’t feel as annoyed, as ready to dismiss it as he thought he would. He walked over to the couch and sat down. “Well then, advise me.”  
  
“Don’t mock me.”  
  
Michael frowned. James really didn’t make this easy. “Do you want me to apologise?”  
  
“That would be a start.” He came over and sat down beside him.  
  
Michael looked at him. “Tell me what you think first.”  
  
James took a deep breath. “All right. I think by striking out when someone faces you with that – rumour – you only sort of acknowledge it. You should ignore it.”  
  
“I intend to have her thrown her out.”  
  
“Don’t.” At Michael’s frown James continued. “What do you think she will tell everyone, if you do? If you keep her, she will have to think she was wrong; after all a real demon would have been angry at her and not forgiven her.”  
  
“That what you think? That demons can’t forgive?”  
  
James shrugged. “According to legends, it doesn’t seem like a trait of demons.” He sounded slightly amused.  
  
A slight smile tugged at Michael’s lips but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Legends... hmm.” But the reasoning was simple and, he had to admit,  it probably would do more damage to throw her out. He closed his eyes for a moment. And that was the reason why Ferdinand had tried to talk him out of it, too. He knew the man, he would try to dissuade him, slowly, subtly. Not like James, who demanded to be heard and listened to. Not subtly, not diplomatic at all.  
  
He turned towards him, studying him. Slowly he reached out and started to tug at James’ cravat.  
  
“What are you doing.” James made to bat his hand away, but Michael moved closer, catching his hand and moving to open the cravat with the other. “I’m apologising. Just the way you showed me how.”  
  
James looked surprised and didn’t resist as he pulled the cravat free, revealing James pale neck and throat.  
  
He lent closer and kissed James. The man responded quickly. Hadn’t he, no mere day ago, protested against being kissed,  Michael thought amused. But he didn’t let the thought distract him. He moved away from James’ mouth, which led to a little sound of protest. His lips brushed against James’ cheek and then down to his neck. He slowly licked the skin there, making James gasp softly. His skin was warm and soft under his lips and he gently sucked and bit. James grasped his shoulder with his free hand, but didn’t push him away. Rather he seemed to want to pull him closer. Michael obliged, moving his ministrations down to the bend between neck and shoulder, sucking hard at the skin there, making James moan.  
  
He wanted to bruise the skin, make sure he left his mark there.  
  
 _Mine... wantwantwant..._  
  
Michael pulled back, letting go of James hand too. The feeling of wanting, needing so intense that he feared he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from biting down hard on James’ neck, drawing blood, tasting flesh. He felt slightly dazed.  
  
Suddenly there were strong hands on his shoulders, pushing him back against the couch, pinning him there. He gave a throaty chuckle as James straddled him. James' eyes showed determination. Michael felt a certain thrill, a tightening feeling in his belly.  
  
James lips brushed against his, almost tentative and he wanted to capture James’ mouth with his, but strong hands kept him pinned against the couch. He frowned, but the smile he saw on James face made him stop. Teasing, blue eyes full of want.   
  
He relaxed or tried to, with anticipation tingling down his spine. His hands grasped James’ hips.  
  
James bent forward, tilting his head to kiss his neck. Michael leant back offering his throat and neck to the kisses, licks and small bites James started to spread on the tender skin, loosing himself completely in the feeling of pleasure for the moment.  
  
###  
tbc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First I thought I would just leave the German as it is, without translating, since this is how James experiences the scene, without understanding. But it is a bit more than usual that is said in German here, so maybe people are curious and want to know what is said. So here is the scene with the German translated:
> 
> ###  
> As if just realizing what she had been doing she pressed both her hands against her lips. “Sorry, sorry, sorry...” she stammered.
> 
> Michael had stopped for a short moment, now he was advancing towards her. “How dare you!” his voice was a low hiss. He grabbed her arm, half dragging her up. The girl shrieked, then started sobbing. “I didn’t mean to. I, I... Please... I wont ever again...”
> 
> Michael gave her a rough shake. “I think so too. You can start packing right away!”
> 
> “No... please-please, I do need the work...”
> 
> James jumped from the windowsill shocked and startled by Michael's violent outbreak. “Michael, what are you doing? Let her go. She doesn’t deserve this.” He took hold of Michael's arm, the one he was holding the girl with, trying to keep him from shaking her. 
> 
> “Don’t get involved. You have no idea...”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James needs time to think. He heads out on a lonely ride. Michael thinks James has left but is determined to find him.

Tiny snowflakes were falling around James. He was riding in a slow trot through the snow. There was no wind, so it didn’t actually feel that cold, despite there being no sun out. Everything was white and gloomy. Nevertheless James felt good to be outside on his own. He was sure, should he manage to get lost again, the horse would be very much capable of finding its way back to its warm, dry stable.  
  
He had been a little surprised, how easy it had been to get one of the stablehands to saddle up a horse for him, leaving aside the language barrier. But the man did not refuse, nor go to consult Michael first. That made James feel strangely relieved. Michael’s words of him staying as a guest had felt very restrictive, finding his freedom was not really restricted was comforting.  
  
James had looked in on his horse too. It was already standing upright in its box, still bandaged up and only gingerly putting weight on its injured leg, but it didn’t seem to have lost its spirit yet, sniffing his hand with interest and flicking its ears, as he talked nonsense to it.  
  
It had made him think though. His horse was mending, hopefully in another two or three weeks he would be able to leave. But would Michael really let him leave? It did not help that he started to feel reluctant at the thought himself. He was just discovering certain things about himself. For one that he liked men. Or at least one very specific man.  
  
He had wanted time to think. Somewhere, where he did not have to worry that Michael might come out of his study, after finishing whatever he was doing there and – distracting him again. Though part of him sure was not exactly worried about that, but more... hopeful for such distractions. James shook his head. He clearly no longer was master of himself but ruled by his passions.  
Women never had felt that distracting. He guessed it was because he never met the right one. He never looked. If he had, if he had been married, he wondered, if then he would succumb to his feelings for Michael now. If any such feelings would evolve.  
  
But it was no use speculating about that. The fact remained, he was falling for the man, fast and hard; he felt himself blush at the thought. Yesterday he had shamelessly straddled him on the couch, ravishing his neck and actually it had been Michael who had stopped him. Laughing breathlessly, telling him he did not intend to come in his trousers, but wanted James and himself naked for that. That remark had sobered James up enough to show some restraint. He started to turn into a wanton harlot under Michael’s hands and mouth and he was not comfortable with this lack of control.  
Though Michael did not seem to mind, but rather enjoy it, by the looks he gave him. That slight smile and intense gaze. To James it felt like the man was undressing him with his eyes, or taking it a step further already, caressing his body with one long look. James felt completely vulnerable and naked, despite being clothed, in those moments. But what really got to him was, when he returned that look with one of determination of not to shy away, there seemed to be a glimpse of something in Michael’s eyes. Something like surprise.  
  
James reached the crossroads and without thinking about it, choose to urge the horse on the path that led to the ruined church. The only other place he really knew around here. There must be villages, or at least farmhouses, but apparently far spread out. He tried to remember the map Michael had shown him. Michael’s lands were wild enough to invite bandits apparently. That made him wonder. According to Michael there were quite some rumours about him and the land, but people seemed comfortable enough to come to him for help. Which he did not refuse. Then he got angry at a simple servant girl, because she believed the rumours. But if they really believed him to be evil (because a demon clearly was evil) why would they ask for his help. And what had Michael done really, to provoke such believes. Ill tampered, arrogant, living in relative privacy. He knew a handful of Lords that would fit that description as well. None of them were accused of being demons. So could the rumours be really be that bad? Or was it just Michael thinking they were?  
  
Even if some believed him to be a demon, they hardly could start a revolution here. Since what had happened in France every sovereign was on his guard and would come to another’s help to nip any thoughts of revolt in the bud, not wanting to have another revolution grip the land, another Napoleon to rise in its wake. ‘We have enough on our hands with the one the last revolution spawned.’  
But perhaps Michael’s worries had other reasons, really. That someone would think of betraying him in some way, when the French tried to invade.  
  
That thought only brought him back to what he had to do.  
  
Leave.  
  
‘Perhaps I’m worrying too much. Who knows what the next weeks will bring. Michael is still arrogant, demanding, full of himself... Perhaps I’ll hate to...” Images of Michael’s bedroom filled his mind. The bed, Michael on it, his promise of not letting him leave, touching his naked body, kissing him... everywhere.  
  
The horse under him gave an annoyed snort. James realised he had tensed up, gripping and pulling tightly at the reigns. He gave the horses neck an apologetic pat and then urged it into a gallop, trying to dissipate the thoughts with the cold wind that came with the fast pace.  
  
A certain knowledge stayed with him though. The idea of being naked and Michael touching him didn’t repulse him.  
  
He quickly reached the ruin and stopped just outside the former gate. As advised last time, he left the horse outside the church grounds. He took his time to look around, wandering between the gravestones, but keeping his distance to the drop. He wondered if there was a way to get down there, deciding to ask Michael the next time.  
  
Curious he took a look inside the church, or what was left of it, too. James wondered what Michael might have found in here as a child. He always used to drag strange things home, from his outings through the highlands. Bones of some dead animal, flowers for his mother - and sister too, when he was in a good mood and tried to make up for scaring her with ghost stories. He even found a strange coin once, which his old nurse, who still worked at their estate despite there no longer being small children to look after, had declared to come from the fairies.  
  
The parts of the church walls that stood on the downwind side, still showed some sort of paint and decorations. The grounds were littered with what probably was part of the caved in roof as well as old churchbenches, left to rot away.  
He poked at some of the wooden debris with his foot, then bent down to brush the snow away, to uncover a carved piece of wood. He picked it up, carefully scratching some more snow and caked dirt away with gloved hands, to uncover a piece of a little plump angel. The arms and legs were broken off, as was one of the small wings. It was a bit sad, to find something once beautiful so forgotten and discarded. So the people really avoided this place, just as Michael seemed to avoid the chapel at his estate.  
  
He stared at the white snow on the ground in front of him. He put down the little angel and scooped up some snow instead. White as... Michael’s eyes. That was the only thing that made no sense. Two times now he had seen Michael’s eyes turn white and though every time he had found himself uncertain about what he had seen, when confronting the Michael about it, when he was alone, he was very sure about it. He had the feeling that this was no medical condition or something brought upon by a seizure. For that the eyes had just looked to... unnatural. Demonic?  
Abruptly James laughed. How stupid was this getting? Suddenly his laugh was answered by hoarse cawing in the trees beyond the church-ruins. He stood up, quickly looking around. Two crows were sitting on one branch, bickering at each other. James relaxed with a sigh. This place seemed to get at him. He didn’t want to judge Michael on those strange rumours his servants believed in.  Demons, what nonsense. He was sure no real demons existed. Well except maybe Napoleon.  
  
The snow in his hand had gotten squashed to form an oddly shaped snowball. He threw it through one of the smashed-in windows. Rumours and what might be a grain of truth at their bottom. James had no idea how to get to the end of that. He couldn’t ask anyone about what the rumours entailed precisely. Michael wouldn’t tell him, clearly. Well probably the circumstances were simply ill chosen. He shouldn’t have asked him after he had just intruded on him in his bedroom and woken him up.  
  
White eyes, demons, rumours. In a way it didn’t really matter, for he was sure he would soon walk through that bedroom door and ask for more.  
  
+++  
  
Michael slammed the door to James’ rooms behind himself and ran down the stairs. In the entrancehall Ferdinand still waited with the stablehand, who was wringing his cap, looking miserable and like he would have loved the ground to just open up and swallow him.  
  
“You are lucky you were right! All his things are still here.”  
  
“Yes Your Lordship.” The man bowed, unconsciously edging slightly backward.  
  
Ferdinand put a hand on the man’s arm to keep him from running. “Does Your Lordship have any more questions, or can I send the man back to his duties?” As always, his valet’s voice was calm.  
  
Michael made a dismissing gesture and after Ferdinand had told the stablehand to leave, the man couldn’t get away hastily enough. “Remember to ask me the next time before you just give one of my horses away!” Michael yelled after him.  
  
“Your Lordship, if I may hazard a guess, all evidence points to your guest simply going out for a ride. Clearly he didn’t want to disturb you in your study and I suppose he is used to...”  
  
Michael held up his hand. He didn’t want to hear any reasoning. James had just GONE!  
  
Ferdinand paused, but only shortly. “I am sure he will come back, Your Lordship.”  
  
“What if he doesn’t?” Michael’s gaze grew distant. What if he decided to run away? Had he misjudged him so, had he got scared? But James had come to him, in the end, clearly not scared of Michael or what he was doing to him. Had he got scared of himself? “I’m going to look for him.”  
  
“Wouldn’t it be better to at least wait till the evening? Should he not return by then, you can still send out a search party or... look for him yourself.”  
  
Michael shook his head. Waiting? Only to find out he did not intend to return? It wouldn’t do. There was a tight in his throat. ‘I want him back!’  
“I will look for him now.” He walked over to his study. “Make sure there is noone in the courtyard.”  
  
For a moment Ferdinand looked misgiving but then he bowed his head. “Where will you be?”  
  
“The library. I will need to open the window.”  
  
“Just let me draw the curtains, just in case.” Ferdinand headed for the library, while Michael got a small, but very sharp, dagger from his study. As he entered in the library, the window was already open, the lighter curtains drawn and weighed down with books, so they wouldn’t billow open. Cold air was already seeping into the room.  
  
“Please give me a moment to make sure noone is about.” Ferdinand headed quickly for the door.  
  
“And get my horse saddled!”  
  
“Yes, Your Lordship.” Ferdinand closed the door behind himself. Michael walked over and turned the iron key in its lock, then headed to the other door and locked that too. He moved to the window and looked outside. The light snowfall from this morning had stopped, yet the sky had stayed grey. It only suited his mood. He shouldn’t have let James out of his sight. Clearly the man still needed some  ensnaring.  
  
Michael reached up to touch his throat. His skin felt tender and bruised where James had been kissing him, leaving his marks. He was quite enthusiastic, passionate and demanding. Why then did he leave?  
  
Michael waited impatiently, till Ferdinand knocked on his door. “Everything is ready, Your Lordship.”  
  
Without giving his valet an answer Michael sat down on the couch. Dagger in his right, he grasped the sharp blade with his left, the blade cutting into his flesh. With one quick move he pulled the dagger up, so it cut his hand deeply. The pain made him gasp. He forced himself to open the hand, his palm smeared with quickly flowing blood, the cold from the open window caressing over it, adding its own sting to the angry pulsing of the wound.  
  
The feeling of detachment hit him hard, like he was suddenly wrenched out of himself. All that was left of him was an empty shell, only filled by the angry screeching of his demon.  
  
 _Michael. He left! He left us._  
  
Despite the unreal feeling, there was a sharp piercing pain that had nothing to do with his hand. He shied away from that. “Yes. I need you to find him. Find him and... No, no!” It was like he was yelling, his voice was so loud. “No, just find him. I will get him then.”  
  
There were no more questions or comments. It was like his vision was dragged outside and spread out far quicker than ever before. Something blurred his sight, but he didn’t dare to ask for it to stop. His throat tightened, he barely managed to suck in enough air to breath.  
  
Suddenly everything swung into focus. The forgotten church.  
  
 _That place?That place!_  
  
He saw James then, he was standing in the long forgotten graveyard, brushing snow of old gravestones with gloved hands. His face was screwed up in a look of concentration, then changed to one of  delight as he bent over the stone, tracing the carved in words still recognisable with his finger.  
  
 _Found him! James! Mine! Safe!_  
  
He reached out with invisible hands, fingers brushing against warm skin, red lips, tugging at brown strands of hair.  
  
+++  
  
James straightened up startled  and looked around. With the back of his hand he rubbed against his cheek. He had felt a strange caress, not exactly cold, almost like fingers touching him. He shook his head. Probably just the wind. He eyed the gravestone suspiciously and raised an eyebrow. He took a careful step back. He had been the one telling ghost stories, knowing they weren’t true, just to scare his sister. Was that now coming back to haunt him?  
  
The gravestone looked all innocent, most of it still covered with snow. Just a slab of stone.  
  
+++  
  
Heat burnt Michael’s chest and for a moment he was certain he would choke. There was searing fire in his left hand, then nothing. Numbness pulsed through him, subsiding only slowly and being followed by a light nausea. Michael closed his eyes and tried to relax. The dagger had slipped out of his grasp some time ago.  
  
Something cold and wet was on his face. Slowly he reached up and brushed his right hand over his cheek. Carefully he opened his eyes raising his hand in from of his face to look at it. He was startled to see blood. He frowned and looked down at his left hand. It too was smeared with his own blood but no cuts were visible anymore. Did he touch his face with his left, to get the blood there?  
  
He stayed where he was for some moments longer, then slowly got up and unlocked the library door again. Ferdinand was waiting right outside. He took one long look at him, but didn’t say a word. Only his eyes showed concern. He handed him a glass that Michael took and drank from. Hot, sweet yet bitter liquid filled his mouth. Michael never asked what it was, but it tasted of alcohol, honey and spices. It sure helped calm him and pushed back any lingering nausea.  
  
“The water for washing is still hot. “ Ferdinand directed him to bedroom, following him closeby, ready to help should the need arise.  
  
Michael braced himself against the washstand with both hands and looked in the mirror. His face was smeared with blood. It looked more dreadful than he had expected. He frowned, reached up to trace one of the rivulets. It looked like the blood had come from his eyes. He couldn’t remember that happening before. Involuntarily he looked at his valet, who seemed to guess what he was thinking.  
  
“Something like this has happened before. When you were still a boy, right after...” he didn’t need to elaborate for Michael to know what he meant. “and after the incident in the chapel.”  
  
Michael pressed his lips together. “There was a lot of blood that day.”  
  
“Yes, but I saw to you after.” There was an audible pause, before Ferdinand added. “Your Lordship.” Reminding Michael that he knew him since he was little and that he could trust him.  
  
Michael looked back at the mirror. So he had nearly lost control? Over something like a simple search. Careful Michael dipped his hands into the water. It quickly took on a pinkish hue. He splashed water on his face too, then let Ferdinand change it, and washed again, making sure to get all the blood from his face and hands.  
  
He had been angry.  
But he had been angry before.  
  
After he had dried his face he noted Ferdinand had put out fresh clothes for him. With only a slight hand gesture his valet indicated some blood had got on his shirt and jacket too. Michael changed with a sigh and rising restlessness. He started to feel settled again but he could barely wait to get out on his horse and fetch James back.  
###  
tbc


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A confrontation at the old church ruins. James finds a way to learn a bit about the rumours concerning demons and Michael’s lands. All the unresolved sexual tension comes to a peak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The question of what regency men wear underneath their trousers is answered.

James was startled out of his wandering between the gravestones, when he heard his horse neigh. It was answered by another. Quickly he ducked behind a bolder of snow created by an uprooted tree, that had landed on some of the gravestones. His first thought was – bandits. He had no weapon, hiding was no use, since his horse was a certain give-away for his presence. And even without the horse, his footprints were everywhere in the snow, betraying that someone must be here. So even trying to sneak away was out of the question.   
  
“James!”  
  
As he heard the familiar voice call for him he relaxed and stood up. He felt silly, it was very unlikely for bandits to roam so close to Michael’s estate. He stepped around the tree trunk, out into the open again. “I’m here!” He stopped as he saw Michael stride towards him, long, black riding cloak hugging his lean body tightly and then billowing around his long legs. Black hat, black gloves and a look of determination on his face, made James think Michael might look the part of a demon. An angry, arrogant and enthralling demon. James licked his lips. He felt he was missing a vital point here, but couldn’t come to terms with it. He was too distracted.   
  
Michael reached him, grabbed his shoulders, pulled him closer and pressed his lips against James’ in a demanding kiss.   
  
James was startled, though the thought to protest stayed in his mind only for a moment and seemed more like an obligation courtesy of his brain, lacking any real sincerity. Michael’s mouth felt hot on his own cool lips. The way he sucked on his lower lip left a prickling feeling in its wake. James heard himself utter a low moan. His arms had already betrayed him, wrapping around Michael’s waist. He tried to push his tongue into Michael’s warm mouth, meeting some resistance for a moment as Michael tried the same, but then Michael gave way, luring him in with his own tongue.  
  
Michael loosened the strong grip he had on James’ shoulders and wrapped his arms around him instead. They stood like that for a moment, kissing, holding on to each other in the middle of the snow-covered churchyard.  
  
Finally they broke apart, both panting heavily, their breath forming small clouds in the cold air. Michael let go of him but cupped his face with his gloved hands, making him look up into his eyes. “Don’t ever leave again without telling me where you go!”  
  
James wanted to protest, but the look in Michael’s eyes held him back. Instead he reached up and gently pulled Michaels hands away, though he kept hold of them. He tilted his head slightly to one side and countered the intensity, that made him a little uncomfortable, with teasing. “Were you worried about me?”  
  
“Yes.” The simple answer made James feel a slight fluttering in his belly. He tried to dismiss it, letting go of Michael’s hands though. “Why, what is there that could happen to me on your lands? You dealt with those bandits.”  
  
“It’s not that. Anyway, this place here is dangerous to scramble around on your own, what if you fell down there?”   
  
“You did.” James saw Michael’s eyes widen for a moment like in shock. Puzzled he frowned. “You told me you used to play here.”  
  
Michael gritted his teeth. “Yes. But I was a boy and careless. And I did hurt myself while playing here.”  
  
“I was careful; I didn’t even go close to the edge.” James assured.  
  
“Nevertheless... I don’t want you to come here on your own.”  
  
James tried to ignore the slight irritation he felt about that. “Because?”  
  
Michael looked exasperate. “Can’t you just do what I ask of you?”   
  
James folded his arms. How could he be so attracted to this man when time and again he showed how annoyingly arrogant he was.   “No. I told you, I’m not a servant to be told what to do. Don’t dismiss me, or my questions, just because you don’t want to hear them.”  
  
Michael frowned but then gave him a sharp smile. “So I cannot assume you will listen to my – advice, as I did with you.”  
  
James felt the protest die on his tongue. Outmanoeuvred by his own words. He looked up at Michael, who seemed to only wait for him to argue and protest. “Actually, I had hoped to come here again with you. I wanted to ask you if there was a way down that drop.”  
  
Michael seemed surprised. “Why? There is nothing down there, really.” His voice sounded flat.  
  
“There must be pieces of the church. And I would like to know, how this place looks viewed from down there."  
  
Michael gave a slight huff. “There is not as much down there as you might think. But if you insist.”  
  
Something in James’ mind tried to get his attention. Maybe he could use this as an opening. “You don’t worry about the stories, or that people might see you here?”  
  
“Why should I, this is my land.”  
  
“You hinted at stories connected to this place. What are they?” Maybe this was a way to find out more about the rumours.  
  
Michael gave him a long look and James’ was certain he wouldn’t answer. Then he suddenly smiled slightly, bent down and kissed him again.  
  
James groaned, half in frustration half with need. It didn’t help that every time they parted from kissing he became acutely aware of the cold air brushing against his wet lips, instead of Michael’s warm mouth. “Damn distraction.” He felt warmth creep over his face as he realized he had said that out loud.  
  
Michael laughed. “No. Payment.” He nuzzled at James chin before whispering at his ear, making him shiver. “Aren’t diplomats expected to pay for special information?”  
  
James took a step back to regain his bearing and gave Michael a sulky look, but thought he was very willing to pay some more. “So? What do I get for my payment?”  
  
“A story.” Michael moved to James’ back, wrapped his arms around him from behind and pulled him up against his body. The touching was beginning to feel natural and James found himself leaning against the taller man, enjoying the warmth of his body.  
  
“Well...” Michael hesitated a moment before he started. “There is one story, that says that the devil himself built tunnels directly from hell up here to earth. Little holes were he can pop up and send his demons from to torment and seduce mankind. One of those tunnels came right up inside this church and as he reared up his ugly head in this holy place, he got burnt so badly that he tore down back to hell, taking half the church with him in his descent.”  
  
James frowned. “That is a strange story, but not really as scary as I imagined. The devil got sent back to hell after all, so people shouldn’t fear this place. Are there any other stories?”  
  
“Mhm...”  
  
“Do I need to pay more?” James asked half jokingly, but not without a hint of thrill in his voice. Michael only pulled him a little closer. James tried to move and look over his shoulder but Michael’s soft voice stalled him. “Stay… please.” After James had relaxed again Michael gave a little sigh before he started. “Since you want something more scary, I will tell you one of the more sinister stories concerning this place. It is about a demon.” Michael shifted his stance. “He wasn’t satisfied with tranquillity and calm, he yearned for something sinister, the taste of emotions beyond his comprehension. Emotions he could not find in heaven.”  
  
“Wait. A demon -  in heaven?” James frowned.  
  
He felt Michael shrug. “A fallen angel then?”  
  
“You are not exactly good at telling stories.”  
  
“I never said I was.”   
  
“So?” James finally prompted after Michael stayed silent for too long.  
  
“So he searched these things out on earth - secretly. Here he could taste things like pleasure, pain, lust... joy. He despoiled himself to the utmost. In some versions of this story he even went down to hell, making a deal with the devil himself for grant of his darkest desires. One day he was found out and thrown down to earth – right here. He brought down half the church with him and the impact split off the drop, which was then much further away, in one massive landslide. They say there was the sound of his pain filled screeching hanging in the air for days and it was so loud that it even drove the dead from their graves...”  
  
James shivered at the last one, eyeing the gravestones around himself suspiciously. “This one is more scary. But why didn’t he like, go straight to hell then?”  
  
“I don’t know. Perhaps he was only thrown so far and he had no energy left to crawl back into hell. It is a story, James. Does it have to make sense?”  
  
“A little at least. You have strange stories here.”  
  
“So are you satisfied?” Michael sounded slightly exhausted.  
  
James turned in his arms. “No.” He reached up and pulled Michael closer for another kiss.  
  
+++  
  
James threw the cards on the small table giving an exasperate sigh. “I loose... again!” he ground out. But really it was Michael’s fault. He kept distracting him. By his presence, the little remarks he made while playing, by the looks he gave him, full of heat and hinted promise of… James tried not to think too much about it.   
  
“I clearly have no mind for playing tonight. I’m sorry. I think I should retire.” It was the decent thing to say – and do. But he didn’t attempt to move. He didn’t want to admit it, not even to himself, but he was waiting for - something. He stayed half sprawled on the couch, trying to tell himself he was just too tired to move. But his heart had picked up its pace.  
  
Michael dropped the cards he had started to pick up to shuffle once more and was suddenly right beside him on the couch. “Don’t!” He took James left hand and pulled it up to his lips. James didn’t resist but watched Michael. Absently he licked his lips. He wanted this.  
  
Michael locked eyes with his before gently brushing his lips against the sensitive skin of James’ wrist. “Don’t leave. Please.”  
  
The word sent a pleasant tingling down James’ spine and he closed his eyes. His eyes flew open again as Michael’s voice suddenly was close by his ear, warm breath spilling against his earlobe. “You enjoy being kissed by me. Let me do more than that. Let me seduce you, let me touch you.”  
  
+++  
  
Michael needed this. He needed to feel James, after fearing he had slipped through his grasp today. Even if he knew now, that of course James’ hadn’t intended to leave. But it felt like he had lost his patience, along with his life, when he was eight. He wanted to make sure James’ would not have any thought of leaving left.   
_  
Mine!_  
  
He would make him want him, need him, crave to be touched.  
  
 _Claim him. Mark him._  
  
He wanted to make sure he would come into his bedroom every night, begging...  
  
 _Yes!_  
  
+++  
  
James’ free hand took hold of Michael’s shirt and he pulled him in for a kiss, silencing that mouth that came up with words that, at the same time, made him want to run from and beg for what was so shamelessly promised.  
  
He felt Michael’s hands starting to unbutton his west and the three buttons that kept his shirt neatly closed. There was no need to undo a cravat, since James had not been wearing one this evening. James didn’t feel quite coordinated enough to attempt undressing Michael and just let him proceed. A surge of pleasure coursed through him as his shirt was pulled out of his trousers. Michael broke the kiss and sat back, taking a long look at James dishevelled form, west undone and pushed aside, the white shirt bunched up, revealing glimpses of a naked chest and belly.  
  
James swallowed, feeling nervous and self-conscious by the way Michael looked at him. Especially as he smiled and moved closer, James couldn’t help it, he moved back along the couch. Michael tilted his head sideways, looking amused. “Really, James?” He suddenly put his hands on James’ thighs, pinning him down to move over him, forcing James to lean back till he lay on the couch. Michael had his knees between James legs, pushing them apart most indecently... “You know how you look? Lips swollen from kissing, pretty blue eyes half closed… you look wanton, my English diplomat. Don’t try to deny what you want.”  
  
“I want you to kiss me.” James answered breathlessly.  
  
“Good. Where?”  
  
James licked his lips. “Mouth.” He hazarded.  
  
It looked like Michael was considering that a moment, but then he shook his head. “No. You can do better than that.”  
  
“Neck?”  
  
“Maybe... but I think I’ll start somewhere lower down.” Michael moved his hands from James’ legs up to his hips. His fingers dug into the hem of his trousers and pulled them as far down as the buttons would allow, just managing to expose a bit of James’ hipbones. James eyes widened he opened his mouth but instead of words just a little gasp escaped.   
  
“I take that you agree with my suggestion.” Michael bent down, lips brushing against James naked belly down to his hips nipping and licking James skin there.   
  
James couldn’t help but stare. Michael kneeling between his legs, head so close to his crotch. He barely noticed that Michael’s hands had moved, fingers deftly undoing the two buttons that held up the drop front of James’ trousers.  
  
“Wait!” James gasped as he realised that Michael was just inches away from uncovering his very much aroused cock. A flutter of panic was threading through his belly. He half sat up trying to grab Michael’s hands to stop him from going further.   
  
Michael stopped moving his hands, but stayed head bent over James’ stomach. James could feel Michael’s hot breath against his naked skin. For a moment James thought he would ignore him, twist his hands free and go on, but then he slowly looked up. Michael’s usually pushed back hair looked dishevelled, his heated gaze bore into James. James shifted his hips, wanting to buck up, shamelessly begging. But something stopped him and he shook his head.   
  
“Please...just let me...” James’ fingers let go of Michael’s hands to get a hold on his trousers. Some little reasonable voice in his head told him to just get out of here. That this was so wrong. That he shouldn’t have let Michael kiss him in the first place, let alone undress him. That he shouldn’t be aroused by that.   
  
Michael’s expression darkened but he slowly sat up, letting go of James.   
  
James suddenly felt cold. Compelled he looked at Michael who did what he asked of him, regardless. James slowly sat up, feeling awkward.  “I’m sorry... “ That again. But what should he say? That he had second thoughts? He hung his head, looking down at the carpet at his feet but really just seeing Michael’s gaze full of dark promise on him. The mere thought sent another spike of lust through him.   
  
‘Admit it! Admit it already! You want it.’  
  
He did want Michael, wanted his hands on him, his lips, wanted him to undress him, wanted his hand on his hard cock, stroking him while he kissed him or whispered all sorts of indecent things in his ear.  
  
‘You don’t have anything to loose.’ Here, in the middle of nowhere. He would be gone in a few weeks.   
  
Slowly James got up.  
  
As he did Michael clenched his hands to fists. “Are you running away – again.” His voice sounded hoarse.   
  
“No!” James protested.  
  
“What are you calling it then?”   
  
James looked down at Michael. He wanted to...’not loose my head in this’. James walked over to Michael’s bedroom door and pushed it open. Then he turned around. Michael watched him, frowning, a look of confusion and realisation on his face. James smiled ever so slightly and slowly licked his lips.  “I call it taking this somewhere more comfortable.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the cliffhanger here, but it was that or not post in time.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing much is happening actually, except, what the picture implies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Mcfassy Valentines Tuesday.  
> I wanted to thank all the readers. WOW! I just never thought this fic would be liked by so many.

  
James walked into Michael’s bedroom. The air was somewhat cooler here than out in the salon. Michael stalked after him. “What are you playing at?!” He sounded frustrated.  
  
James went to the bed, determined. He fastened the drop front of his trousers, then turned around. He slipped out of his west and let it drop to the ground, then his shirt followed suit. “I want this.”  
  
Michael’s look changed slowly, the heat and hunger showing in his eyes again. He stepped back to the door and closed it. “You remember what I said last time? If you want to play some sort of game, it ends right here. I won’t let you leave now.”  
  
James moved towards him. “I don’t want to leave.” He took hold of Michael’s shirt collar and pulled him close. He brushed his lips against his, licked over them with his tongue, tasting Michael. “I want you.” Michael tried to kiss him but James held him back. “But – at my pace.” He almost expected some form of protest and was surprised as Michael looked curious. “What do you want me to do then?” There was a hint of a challenge in his voice and he reached up, putting his fingers under James chin, tilting it up, but only brushing over his lips with his thumb. “Not kiss you, it seems.”  
  
“You got that wrong.” He licked over Michael’s thumb, not wavering under Michael’s heated gaze.  
  
As Michael leaned in this time, James didn’t hold him back. He felt himself getting lost in the kiss, the feeling and taste of their mouths and tongues all he paid attention to until Michael’s hands took hold of his hips, the touch hot against James’ naked skin.  
  
“So you want to take it more slowly?” Michael hazarded as they broke apart for air.  
  
“Yes.” James affirmed.  
  
“And on a more comfortable place like the couch. The bed?” James didn’t protest as Michael manoeuvred them both back to the large bed.  
  
“What else?” There was a smile playing around Michael’s lips, though he seemed to try and look innocent. “Would you want me to beg?”  
  
The suggestion startled James. “I didn’t think of that, but... I want you to undress.”  
  
Michael’s eyes locked with his. Holding James’ gaze, he slowly pulled the shirt out of his trousers, then drew it over his head. He made sure James still looked as he unbuttoned the flap of his trousers, then let them drop to the ground and stepped out of them. James gaze had slipped down, appreciating the lean muscled body. He ended up staring open-mouthed at Michael’s half hard cock.  
  
Michael chuckled pleased. He sat down on the bed, taking off shoes and socks, before lying back on the bed, half propped up by some pillows, resting his left arm behind his head to better look at James. James couldn’t help noting how arrogantly smug he seemed. He tried to not let that get to him; perhaps this would actually play to his advantage, reminding him not to loose his head over Michael.  
  
“What now? Do you want to join me, or do you want to watch?” Michael moved his right hand down his own body, fingers splaying over his stomach then moving further down to grasp his erection.  
  
James watched, mesmerized. He surely hadn’t given that possibility much thought, but found it rather arousing to watch Michael slowly stroking himself. He moved closer, pulled in by the sight, then knelt onto the bed. Michael’s lustfilled eyes, never left him. James reached out, fingers wrapping around Michael’s wrist, stalling his hand. “Wait.”  
  
Michael groans softly. “You’re asking much of me. You DO want me to beg.”  
  
James leant in, lips brushing over Michael’s, while his fingers slid over Michael’s hand to replace it at his cock. “I do want to touch you myself.” He murmured against Michael’s mouth before kissing him. Michael moaned into the kiss, hips bucking up. His hands ghosted lightly over James’ back, making him shiver. Then he buried his long fingers in James hair.  
  
James was fascinated by the feel of Michael’s erection in his hand. Used to pleasuring himself the act itself was familiar, but knowing this wasn’t himself, feeling Michael’s arousal, was strange and arousing at the same time. One of Michael’s hands brushed over his chest, down his belly to cup James’ own growing erection, rubbing it through the fabric of his trousers.  
  
James’ broke the kiss, panting heavily, but Michael was demanding and pulled him back, not letting him escape this time and James was more than willing, opening his mouth. He let Michael kiss while he concentrated on pleasuring him. He wondered, what it would be like to use his mouth instead of his hand. Using his tongue, licking, sucking. Imagining how Michael would react did arouse him.  But it was too late as Michael quickly came, moaning breathlessly. James watched fascinated how Michael’s face was twisted in pleasure.  
  
Reluctantly James let go, wiping come that dripped on his hand off on the sheets. He licked his lips, uncertain. He still wore his trousers and his own erection straining against the too tight fabric. For a moment he thought Michael might just leave him to his own devices, after all he had gotten what he wanted from him. But suddenly James found himself pushed onto his back, with Michael leaning over him, a leering smile on his lips. “I hope this is not all that you wanted; because I want to finish what I started earlier.”  
  
He started spreading little kisses and licks over James’ chest while caressing his neck and shoulder with one hand. James’ whimpered softly as he touched a sensitive spot. Michael’s hand caressed over his arm and finally he twined his fingers with his. James held on, squeezing his hand lightly. “Yes... yes, please.” He heard himself say, not even sure if it was to encourage what Michael was doing or to what he promised to do.  
  
That mouth, that smile, those eyes.  
  
James was only half aware that Michael had undone his trousers, freeing his erection. “I want to taste you.”  
  
James only did regret that he couldn’t kiss Michael. Though not for long, as Michael wrapped his hand around James’ erection and then licked along its length. James felt he wouldn’t want Michael’s mouth anywhere else  at that moment. “Oh...yes!” He felt Michael’s hot wet mouth sliding around the top of his cock.  
  
“M-more!”  
  
The combination of Michael’s hand an his mouth drove him over the edge quickly. He moaned incoherent nonsense as he came, his hand holding tightly on to Michael’s.  
Dazed he stared up at the ceiling, barely noticing as Michael spread light kisses on his hips before he got up. James looked confused after him. Michael went to the washstand, poured some water, then took a cloth and cleaned himself before he dipped the cloth in the water again and went to the bed.  
  
James felt too good to be embarrassed and let Michael clean him.  
  
Michael got up again, throwing the washcloth into the washbasin, then he stopped by the window. He pushed the curtain aside and looked out. He shifted from one leg to the other. Drowsily James watched, admiring the view that had nothing to do with the snow-covered nightly landscape outside. But despite the lovely sight, he was slowly getting cold. For a moment he wondered if he should leave – for his own sake. He looked toward the door. He probably should be worried that he didn’t want to, but couldn’t make the effort. Decidedly he took hold of the blanket and tried to wriggle under it without getting out of bed. As he looked up, Michael was smiling at him, from where he still stood at the window. He came over to the bed and slipped under the covers much more graceful than James had managed.  
  
“Didn’t I get you warm enough yet?” There was a sultry purr to his voice. He took hold of James’ wrists, pushing his hands back, trapping them to both sides of James’ head, before covering his body with his own, nudging James’ legs apart so he could lie between them. Carefully he settled on top of him. James’ felt deliciously trapped by the tall, warm body. “I’m not sure I’m up to more.” He admitted.  
  
“I just want to feel you.”  
  
Michael’s words sent a little delightful shiver through his body and he smiled. He would have liked to wrap his arms around Michael, caress his back. He wriggled his hands, trying to get them free. Michael commented that with a low growl and nuzzled James’ throat, sucking the soft skin there and – James was certain – leaving more marks. Involuntarily he made a little pleased sound. He felt less like drifting off to sleep every moment.  
  
Michael moved lower, giving James’ chest the same extensive attention he had his neck before. James moaned. “If you go on with this, I will...”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
James wasn’t sure if it was meant as a question or affirmation. And if there was a hint of triumph he detected in Michael’s voice. He started squirming, no longer cold but becoming more and more aware of the body pressed against his. His cock found this to be an excellent idea, hardening again. “Oh... mhmmm...”James groaned. He tried again to push his hands up, trying to get them free to touch Michael or make him pause in his assault. Michael only tightened his grip.  
  
“Michael!” This at last got Michael’s attention, though the way he looked at him, as he raised his head from James chest, only made James whimper.  
  
Michael raised an eyebrow in question. “Don’t I give you enough of my attention? Or was there something specific you wanted?” His voice sounded like a soft purr to James ears. Like a content cat. A big ginger one.  
  
“My hands.” James tugged at them for emphasis.  
  
“Hm?” Apparently the point he tried to make did not come across. Instead Michael only rubbed his cheek against James’ chest. The light beard on Michaels cheek, felt like a mixture between a light scratching and caress on James’ sensitized skin.  
  
“Could you let go.”  
  
“I like you that way.”  
  
“I want to touch you.” James protested. The grip on his wrists loosened somewhat and James made to pull his hands away. Before he could really move Michael’s hold on him tightened again.  
  
“Michael, what?” James frowned, trying to read Michael’s smile.  
  
“Not tempted.”  
  
James inwardly writhed in frustration. ‘What the hell is he playing... nonono, wait.... “not tempted?” ’ James licked his lips.  
  
Michael seemed to wait, expectantly.  
  
James shifted slightly under him. “A pity, I would love to run my fingers down your arms, down your back.” He swallowed continuing hesitantly. “Then I’d like to push you on your back, explore every inch of your body with my fingers. I’d like to find out where you like to be touched and stroked and caressed.” He was starting to sound slightly breathless, though his words lost any hesitation. “What touch makes you moan or whimper with pleasure. I want to explore how your skin feels. I want to wrap my fingers around your erection, slowly stroking you, till you call my name, asking for more.”  
  
Michael had pushed himself up, so his face was now right above James’. He was looking down at him intrigued. James felt the effect his words were having on Michael, his hardening erection pressing against his thigh.  
  
Boldly he continued. “And I want to take you into my mouth... see ... how deep... I can take you.”  
  
Michael shifted, slowly letting go of James’ hands. He moved so their erections were pushing against one another. Before James could decide what to do with his newly won freedom Michael claimed one of his hands again, guiding it gently down between their bodies to grasp their erections, twining their fingers around them, stroking together.  
  
James felt Michael’s hot breath against his cheek. His moans caressed his ear, the sound arousing him just as their combined touch was. He felt dazed as they reached orgasm almost together.  
  
Deliciously exhausted he didn’t protest as Michael moved off him, only to pull him closer with one arm, draped over him. “I still want to do to you what I said.”  
  
Michael chuckled, though it sounded sleepy. “Now?” His hand caressed lazily over James’ body.  
  
“Not exactly now....” James closed his eyes, slowly drifting off to sleep. “...tomorrow...”  
  
+++  
  
James woke to the sound of a door closing. He lay on his stomach, head buried in a soft pillow. Slowly he opened his eyes. Bright daylight filled the bedroom. His gaze searched for a clock in the room to find out how late it was, but there was none in his line of sight. He pushed himself up. Suddenly he was pulled onto his back by an arm around his waist and found himself looking up into Michael’s face who was leaning over him. “Good Morning.” He didn’t wait for a reply but delved in for a kiss, one James happily answered.  
  
James wrapped his arms around Michael, noting pleased that he still was naked and apparently had not gotten up. He paused, frowning slightly, his gaze moving to the door. Michael looked questioning at him. “What is it?” He followed his gaze. “Don’t think of leaving right now.”  
  
“No, I just thought I heard the door when I woke up, but since you are still here...”  
  
Michael shook his head amused. “It was just my valet.”  
  
One of James’ eyebrows shot up and he felt himself blush. Michael chuckled at his reaction. “He is with my family since I was little. He knows all my dark secrets.” Michael’s hand caressed over James’ cheek, stopping at his chin and using his thumb to caress over his lips.  
  
“Apart from having a man in your bed, what else might that be?”  
  
“It would no longer be a secret, if I told you.”  
  
“But since I’m already part of your dark secrets... would that matter?”  
  
Michael chuckled. “You don’t think I would tell, after just one night.”  
  
James buried his hand in Michael’s hair, tugging his head down with it. “What about after four?”  
  
Michael replaced his finger on James lips with his own lips. “You only plan on four times?”  
  
“Didn’t say that.” James’ eyes drifted shut.  
  
“Good.”  
  
There was a discrete knock at the door. Michael gently suckled at James’ lower lip before he turned his head towards the door. “Ja?”  
  
From the other side of the door came Ferdinand’s voice. “Das Bad ist fertig.”  
  
“Danke.”  
  
As he turned to look back, James was frowning slightly.” Bath? Did I get that right.”  
  
Michael smiled. “I would be shocked if your grasp of German didn’t reach that far for you to not understand something as simple as that, my diplomat.”  
  
James rolled his eyes. “It is a horrid language.”  
  
“Now you’re insulting me – and in my own bed!” Michael sat up, though he sounded amused. “Just what happened to all your lovely diplomatic skills?” He got out of bed.  
  
“I only find fault with your native language, not you!” James protested not happy that Michael seemed to plan to abandon him in bed.  
  
“Nirgends hin als auf den Mund, da sinkt’s in des Herzen Grund.”  
  
“What?” James sat up, frustrated.  
  
Unfazed Michael continued spewing German phrases, or rather, it started to sound like some kind of poetry, as far as James could tell. He watched, as the very temptingly naked Michael retreated to the second, smaller door, leading from the room. “Nicht zu frei, nicht zu gezwungen, nicht mit gar zu fauler Zungen. Nicht zu harte, nicht zu weich, bald zugleich, bald nicht zugleich. Nicht zu langsam, nicht zu schnelle, nicht ohn Unterscheid der Stelle. Halb gebissen, halb gehaucht, halb die Lippen eingetaucht.” Michael leaned against the door, giving James time to look.  
  
“Why don’t you come and find out what these horrid German words mean, while we take a bath?”  
  
In the end James had to admit, German poetry wasn’t that bad as Michael explained exactly what the words meant – though James guessed he made up some of the more _explicit_ verses in the end.

###

tbc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poem “Wie er wolle geküsset sein” by Paul Fleming (1609-1640) Michael only used the first, fourth and half the fifth verse. It's about the right way of kissing.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If there is a secret, one tends to want to know it. If it will help or hurt more, is another question entirely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Demon on the loose. Violence ahead - gory description of killing towards the end of the chapter.

It was evening. Like most since James arrival fourteen nights ago, Michael and James spent them in Michael’s study. Like the last five, they would end them in Michael’s bed. They didn’t exactly talk about this new ‘arrangement’. Michael seemed to have his mind made up though, while James did not get much time to think about leaving for his own bedroom. Though so far not every night had ended in sex. Two days ago they rode out to the church ruins to explore around the base of the cliff, like James requested. Before they could head back a heavy storm came in, forcing them to walk back, pulling the horses by the reigns behind them. Cold and completely exhausted they had stumbled into the estates yard and, bracing each other (which turned out to be more hindering than helpful), made it back inside, where James slipped and fell, bringing Michael down with him. They had both been laughing as if drunk, as they made it into the bathtub filled with steaming hot water Michael’s valet had quickly prepared. Afterwards they had dragged their exhausted body’s into bed and after some leisurely kisses had fallen asleep. This evening however, both of them were far from exhausted.  
  
There was an urgent knock at the door. Michael sighed; he didn’t move his head from where it rested in James lap. “Yes.” He called out.  
  
The door was opened by Ferdinand, who looked unusually worried. Not about him and James resting so comfortably together. He seemed oddly approving, going so far as to remark on James, that he was ‘better than your usual choices, your lordship’. It irritated Michael somewhat, his valet shouldn’t care who he took to his bed. He never said anything before, only showed a slightly worried face. Either it was the equal status that he approved of, or the fact that James had graced his bed for more than one night now. “What is it Ferdinand?”  
  
“A woman is outside, she is from Wurmberg’s farm. She says it was attacked by bandits, only she and her daughter could flee. I wanted to bring her to the kitchens to get her warmed up and calmed down first, but she refuses to move. She wants to speak to your lordship.”  
  
Michael sat up. James had put the book aside which he was reading and was looking frowning from Ferdinand to Michael. “Räuber? Bandits?” he asked, it clearly being the only word he had been able to make out in the conversation. Michael really should make an effort to teach James some more German, but then it was much more fun to tease him with words he didn’t understand.  
  
Michael gave a short nod. “Yes, apparently. They attacked a farm, but the farmwoman and her daughter escaped.” He got up, grabbed his boots from where he had kicked them off earlier. Ferdinand quickly went to retrieve his coat and helped him slip it on. James watched, looking worried. As Michael headed out of the study, James grabbed a blanket from the couch and decidedly followed him.  
  
Michael’s mouth set in a grim line. What was going on this winter? Wasn’t it enough that Napoleon’s troops where threatening to invade? But perhaps that was the reason for the increasing bandit attacks. Thieves and cutthroats were becoming daring and reckless, hoping that at the brink of war, everyone would be too busy with preparations. Or there was too much of an accumulation of soldiers in the other principalities, so that bandits had decided that his smaller and more remote land was an unguarded apple, ready to be plucked.   
  
On the steps to the main landing a woman huddled in the gloom. She had her arms around a young girl of maybe sixteen, who tried to calm the older woman. Someone had had the presence of mind to wrap a blanket around the two. Two of his servants were standing close by, holding lamps. They where speaking in hushed voices with each other, but stopped as Michael stepped outside.   
as he approached the woman looked up out of tearfilled eyes. Her clothes looked sturdy but they showed the exertions she must have gone through to reach the estate. Wurmberg’s farm lay on the brink of his principality, north from here. “Your Lordship, please, you must help us. They came in the morning, we were just in the stables, Johanna and I, so we could escape. But my little boy, he ran back, he wanted to help his father. They captured him, and my husband and our eldest...” She pressed her hand against her mouth unable to go on. Her daughter looked at him with wide eyes. She swallowed hard, but then got up, reverently pulling the dark shawl she had wrapped around her head back. Pretty auburn hair shone in the lamplight. She was very lucky to have escaped the bandits. “Your lordship, I snuck back, I heard them. They said they was gonna kill my father and brothers. They said it was for revenge for the deaths of the others.”  
  
Michael’s gaze narrowed. The girl shrank back a little. “They took food and our two horses and left. I thought they already had killed them, but then I saw my brothers and father tied on the horses. I.. I think they are still alive, but...”  
  
The bandits before had shown up in the same area. The farms were spread wide apart, an easy target apparently. They must be thinking the lord of these lands did not have any means to defend what was his. Michael huffed.  
  
The girl seemed to mistake his reaction. She suddenly grabbed one of his hands with her smaller ones. They felt cold. “P-please. You must help us. I... “ Suddenly a cross between panic and determination showed on her face. “I’m willing to do everything. But please, help us, please!” The last word only came out as a little helpless whimper.  
  
He might have been tempted – but... He put a hand under her chin and tilted up her head. She had nicely curved lips. He noted her eyes were odd, one brown the other blue. Rather compelling but with fear and desperation lurking in their depths. He found them far from being as compelling as a pair of blue eyes, glinting  boldly, shining with lust. Full red lips spread in a sated smile.   
  
“Ferdinand, get her and her mother settled. I’ll need my horse saddled... and Matthias is to come along. We’ll need lamps, pistols... I’ll leave it to you.”  
   
He freed his hand from the girls grip, turned and met James’ gaze. He stood there wrapped in his blanket looking questing at him.  
  
+++  
  
James was standing by, helpless with all the German, some of the pronunciation sounding off to his ears, when spoken by the two women. He had felt a strange surge of irritation though, as the girl had latched onto Michael’s hand. He tried to shake the feeling off; clearly the girl was only scared. As Michael turned he wanted to ask what had been going on, but he just nodded toward the building. So James followed him back inside again, glancing back to see Ferdinand and one of the other servants speak in hushed tones with the two woman. Michael’s valet stayed, giving orders, and then the other servant led the two fugitives off to the kitchen entrance.  
  
As James closed the door behind himself, he was suddenly pushed against it. Michael was on him, kissing him fiercely. James gasped surprised, but his hands slipped under Michael’s coat to rest against Michael’s hips, fingers flexing. Michael was the one who broke the kiss breathing harshly. “James, this will take longer. Best you just head up to your room...”  
  
“What?” James couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “What do you mean by that? No, wait; first tell me, what is going on. I gathered that there are bandits, but...”  
  
Michael gave a sigh. “They attacked a farm. The girl overheard them. They were talking about taking revenge, probably for the bandits I went out to - take care of some days ago. They took the farmer and his two boys and will probably kill them. Maybe they want to leave the bodies somewhere for others to find, to scare the farmers off. I can’t let that happen. So I will go after them.”  
  
“All right. I’m coming with you.” James replied calmly.  
  
“This is none of your business, James.”  
  
James pressed his lips together, hard pressed to not say the first angry thing coming to his mind. He tried to stay reasonable – and diplomatic. “I know. But I choose to make it mine by wanting to help you.”  
  
Michael looked annoyed. “I don’t need your help.”  
  
“All right... “ James huffed. “I’m sure you can deal with bandits but maybe I rather want to come with you, making sure you are all right, than wait here for you.“  James pressed his lips together, not sure if he had wanted to admit that.  
  
Michael looked strangely at him. For a moment James was sure Michael was going to agree, but then Michael’s face set in a frown. “I don’t have time for this...” He headed for his study, then turned as James made to follow. “You can’t... please, go back to your room.”  
  
“I thought we had gotten past that discussion. I don’t take orders well.”  
  
Suddenly Michael hit the door with his fist. “Verdammt! Warum kannst du nicht einfach...”  
  
James gritted his teeth. He stayed were he was staring at Michael, who had his back turned to him.  
  
Finally Michael turned to look back at him. “Alright. You can come along. But you do as I tell you! And when I tell you to stay behind and let me take care of this, you will!”  
  
To James it didn’t exactly feel like he made a point or gained some sort of victory. But he guessed now was not the time to push the matter, not when peoples lives where at stake. So he just gave a curt nod. “I’ll go upstairs and get changed.” He walked out, then upstairs, taking two stairs at a time. He decided it was better to hurry up, before Michael could change his mind. When he got downstairs again, heading into the study, carrying his coat, he wasn’t surprised that Michael didn’t look ready to leave yet.  
  
He looked up from his discussion with his valet as James entered. He gave him a rather unhappy look, then spoke low to his valet, nodding ever so slightly in James’ direction. James frowned suspiciously and slightly annoyed. Michael could have shouted whatever he wanted, as long as it was in German it was very likely James wouldn’t get what was said anyway. That he nevertheless took the precaution to whisper made James tense. Ferdinand merely nodded in reply, then suddenly looked at James, his face showing slight worry.  
  
Michael headed into his bedroom. James looked after him, then decided to follow. This was getting ridiculous, really. Perhaps he could still talk some sense into him, before they left. He was not a burden. He knew how to handle himself in a fight, and with that he meant no fanciful duels. Perhaps Michael’s resentment for his help stemmed from Michael thinking him some kind of court-fop.  
  
But before he reached the door Michael’s valet had stepped in his way. “Bitte, wartet doch einfach hier, Euer Hochgeboren.” He pointed emphatically at the couch. James frowned, looked to the bedroom door that Michael pushed closed behind himself, then he could hear the key in the lock turn. The soft click made James thin worn patience snap. “What by Napoleon’s balls is going on here?!” He yelled at the door, the valet, the room in general.  
  
“Bitte!”  Ferdinand held up both hands in a calming gestured then pointed at the couch again.   
  
Aghast James sat down, then watched as the valet left hurriedly. He looked at the closed door. What had gotten into Michael? He stood up and walked over to the door. “Michael?” He knocked. There was no answer, he just felt a cold draft coming from the door. He knelt down and tried to look through the keyhole. He couldn’t see much. But he could make out, that the window stood open. With an angry snarl James stood up. He grabbed his coat and headed for the door. Was Michael really trying to leave him behind at all costs? And that despite him promising to do what Michael wanted? Didn’t he trust him at all? “By King George’s madness I swear there are times you really make me doubt my own sanity for getting involved with you!”  
  
From the window in the entrance hall he saw the servants still preparing everything for their departure, but no sign of Michael. He frowned, looked back at the salon, then to the smaller backdoor that led outside from the salon to the backyard. Right to where Michael’s bedroom windows looked out to.   
  
Should he just wait?  
  
But no, this was all too strange behaviour on Michael’s part. He could not just let it go. So he was out the back door and heading for Michael’s bedroom-windows. One of them really was open. James felt tense for a moment as he stepped up to it. He couldn’t see Michael, but suddenly he felt hesitant. An odd sort of tension was creeping up his spine. It was like standing on the edge of a cliff, looking down into the deep drop. He shook his head and pursed his lips. Determined he took a hold of the windowsill, pulling  himself up and climbing in through the window.  
  
For a moment he thought Michael had left another way, then he saw him, sitting slumped by the bed. A bloodied dagger lay beside him and blood oozed from a deep cut in his left hand. James stared, shocked. “Michael...” he took two steps closer then froze. Michael’s eyes had turned milky white, his eyelids fluttered, his breathing was ragged like he was struggling for each lung full of air.  
  
It was like the fit he had had in the chapel, like when he woke at night, that time James surprised him.   
  
James was rooted to the spot, his mind a tumbling mess, shouting at him to just get out of here. But he couldn’t tear his gaze away. Finally he took a hesitant step back. A gust of cold air from the window startled and made him turn. The curtain hung straight, untouched by any cold breeze that James had nevertheless had felt now.  
  
He looked back to Michael and made a startled sound. The freezing white eyes were boring right into him.  “You! You shouldn’t be here!” There was a strange rasping echo to Michael’s voice. “Why did you?” Anger and betrayal coated the words. Slowly Michael rose to his feet, the movements seemed to cost him some effort. James shrank back, his eyes flicking to the dagger that still lay on the ground. The thought that it seemed like Michael didn’t plan to stab him, not nearly as comforting as he had hoped.  
  
“Who... what are you.” For a moment he wondered if the person he was talking to was really Michael. If it was - the ‘demon’. The rumours, the suspicion of the people, those couldn’t be true. He was going mad. No such things like demons did exist. But how else to explain this.  “You’re not... you can’t... ”  
  
A tremble ran through Michael’s body and he suddenly swayed unsteadily. James reacted without thinking, moving to grab Michael’s arm and steady him. Michael gave a painful hissing sound and James manoeuvred him back to the bed and made him sit down. Michael raised his head to look up at him. James quickly let go and stepped back. Michael’s eyes were their normal grey again. He looked at James, not uttering a word, only holding his gaze with his. Michael took his own left hand in his right, thumb rubbing over the palm. James’ gaze flicked down to the bloodsmeared hand, that no longer showed the ugly gash that, moments before, had still been bleeding. Slowly he shook his head. “What the hell is going on?”  
  
Michael’s lips twisted in a cold smile. “You should have waited outside. How did you get in here?” But his gaze moved to the open window and he seemed to figure it out himself. “Ah, I see.”  
  
“The rumours? They are true? You are...”  
  
For just the blink of an eye Michael’s eyes shone white again, silencing James. But just as quickly they returned back to normal. “You don’t believe in demons, do you now. Old wife tales, superstition and rumours.”  
  
“I don’t believe in rumours, but I believe what I have seen – thrice now. And your hand; I saw it had a deep cut, now it is healed. Your voice just now too, was different. What did you do? What are you? Are you possessed?”   
  
“Possessed?” Michael laughed, the harsh sound making James shiver. “No, that would imply that there are two different personalities. There is only me.”  
  
“I don’t understand?” But he had seen ... what? Michael didn’t say it, but he implied and didn’t deny the rumours about a demon. Was he demon? But Michael was and felt human. Except for those moments when he seemed possessed but he said he wasn’t. ‘This is sheer madness. I’m contemplating demons to be real. That I slept with one.’ He felt something like hysterical laughter bubbling up and pressed his fist to his lips.   
  
“I don’t have time for explanations. The bandits have stopped for the night, but to get to them I have to go now! You can wait here.” Michael got up, moving over to the door, unlocking it.  
  
James felt the need to protest. He wouldn’t stay here! ‘I should go... but where? Leave or follow?’ He swallowed.   
  
Ferdinand was waiting outside. “Euer Durchlaucht, es tut mir leid, Graf ...” he stopped abruptly as he saw James in the bedroom. The valets usually perfectly composed features showed shock. “Wie ist er hereingekommen? Es tut mir leid, ich hätte ihn nicht alleine lassen dürfen. Hat er etwas gesehen?” Though James couldn’t get exactly what was said, he could make out that Ferdinand was worried – no - afraid. But not of Michael. For him. Why was the valet worried for a demon. Dark secrets. Michael had told him the valet was with his family like forever and knew all his dark secrets. That was what he had been hinting at. What else had he been telling him, that James had dismissed as of no consequence? The story about the church-ruins. And Michael had been playing there as a child, what had happened there? What did he mean by not possessed.  
  
“Ja. Darum kümmere ich mich später. Sind die Pferde bereit?”  
  
“Ja, Euer Durchlaucht. Soll ich dafür Sorgen dass er in der Zwischenzeit sein Zimmer nicht verlässt?”  
  
Michael looked over to James. Clearly they were talking about him. James cursed himself for not understanding what was said. “Nein, er kann sich frei bewegen. Außer in die Stallungen, ich möchte nicht, dass ich zurück komme und er ist weg.”  
  
“Natürlich, Euer Durchlaucht.”  
  
Michael stepped over to the washbasin, washing the blood of his hand, then let his valet, who had been looking at James like an old grim watchdog in the meantime, help him into his jacket and coat.  
  
James pressed his lips together. He had no idea what to do, but perhaps, as Michael had pointed out, at the moment there were more pressing things to tend to. Still there was a sickening feeling, coiling in his stomach and he couldn’t even point out, if it was because he suddenly felt he didn’t know the man at all – the man he had slept with. Or because he felt he should be way more scared than he was.  
  
As Michael left, James followed.  
  
“What do you think you are doing.” Michael’s voice sounded flat.  
  
“You agreed I could come with you.”  
  
Michael stopped and turned towards him, grey eyes catching blue ones. There was a strange expression on his face. He reached with his right hand as if to touch James’ face.   
  
James stepped back. His heart racing.  
  
Michael’s expression hardened. He dropped his hand, fingers curling into a fist. “Then come along.” He headed out, not turning back to look if James would really follow.  
  
+++  
  
They had lamps to guide them, still their process through the woods was a lot slower than Michael liked. The snow covering the road did nothing to help, and the moon had shrunk to a slim crescent, doing nothing to illuminate their path.  
  
He rode out front, Matthias had taken the rear and he tried not to think about James riding right behind him. Instead he focused on the landmarks around him. His father had insisted he know his lands.  
  
The woman and her daughter from Wurmerg’s farm had taken a good half day to reach the mansion on foot. They would make it in less; and unknowingly the bandits had made it easier for them. He had found them in his search holed up in one of the abandoned mining shafts that were on the brink of his lands borders, but closer to the main road too. They wouldn’t have to take the smaller paths that led to the farm but could follow the wider road.   
  
Michael couldn’t wait. He needed to... Images of blood and flesh tearing under his fingers welled up in his mind. For a moment he closed his eyes, trying to get a grip on the rage that burned inside him. Yet again Michael repeated the plan in his mind, to calm himself. Matthias would stay back at the road while he headed to the hillside with the caves. There should be place at the base of the hill where he would have a good enoug view on the place, be out of sight himself but close enough to attack. He didn’t need a rapier or pistol, though he carried both with himself. But it was more to keep up the illusion. The only question was, for who it was meant tonight.  
  
None of his servants knew the exact truth, except Ferdinand, but Matthias was one of those who had seen enough to know that Michael had means at his disposal that were not – natural. Yet he kept his mouth shut and had proven his loyalty.   
  
And James... James had seen too much tonight already.   
  
His hands gripped the horses reigns tightly.   
  
James didn’t even try to talk to him.   
  
Mine. It tasted hollow now. He could still take what he wanted. Only that was not what he wanted.  
  
+++  
  
Reluctantly James slid off the horse. As he gathered they were to wait here. Michael had addressed him only shortly. The coldness Michael suddenly showed him made him feel something he shouldn’t feel. It hurt. Irritated James rubbed at his arms. Despite his warm clothing the night felt cold. He looked at the man accompanying them, wondering what he was thinking. He seemed not worried but to stoically accept whatever was going to happen. Did he know? Or just suspect? He couldn’t be completely oblivious to whatever Michael was or could do.   
  
The servant moved his horse off the road, to some sheltered part beside the road and James followed, but his gaze was searching out Michael, who looked ready to leave. James wavered. Some part of him was still worried. Quickly he turned round and walked over to Michael. He took a hold of the horses reigns before Michael could head off. For that he earned an irritated look. James didn’t back down, demon or whatever.  
  
“What will you do?”  
  
“What do you think? Kill the bandits, get my people back – if they are still alive.”  
  
James swallowed. “As simple as that?”  
  
“Yes. My lands, I’m judge and jury here. This will be done my way.”  
  
“No I mean.” James wasn’t even sure what he wanted to say. “Do you need help?” What was he doing, offering help to a demon? But it was getting harder melding those two images together. Michael and a creature from hell. He was arrogant but... ‘but you don’t seem to know anything about him.’  
  
“I’m very capable to handle this situation. Or do you think a mere human could help a demon?”  
  
The words stung like a slap in the face – and were probably meant to. James let go of the horses reigns and stepped back. He watched as Michael rode into the deeper forest at the side of the road.  
  
+++  
  
In his search for the bandits from the safety of his estate, he had got a very good idea of the layout of the place.  From the road the land was only slightly rising, till it reached the steeper sloping hills that once people had dug tunnels into, in search for precious metals. Trees gave enough shelter to hide his approach, he only had to be careful of low hanging branches.   
He didn’t expect the bandits to have some sort of lookout, but he didn’t want to try his luck, so he had left the lanterns with Matthias.   
  
The bandits, it turned out, felt quite safe on his lands. He could easily spot the tunnel entrance, where they were camped out in, from the bottom of the hill. Flickering firelight shone from there, marking the spot clearly against the backdrop of the dark hillside. He could hear their horses too. They didn’t seem to be in the tunnel with the bandits but in another closeby. This would make it easier. They would need the horses for the farmer and his sons to take them back to their farm. Better if the animals weren’t spooked.  
  
Michael slipped out of his saddle and loosely tied his horses reigns to a slim tree. He walked closer in the direction of the hill, stopping at rock rising up out of the ground, against which a tall tree had fallen. It offered some shelter without blocking his view of the cave.  
  
Michael bent down and took out the slim dagger he had pushed into his boot. He took a deep breath to calm himself. Doing this twice in one night was taxing. He leant against the tree, put the dagger against his hand and cut. The pain numbed his hand but felt dull and meaningless. There was already another pain, that had been slowly growing on the way here, that was drawing far to much attention from the mere flesh wound.  He stared at his bleeding hand. It wasn’t enough.  He let his head fall back against the rough bark, squeezing his eyes shut. Why hadn’t James done as he had been told. With a low growl he turned to face the tree, put his hand against the bark and drove the dagger right through, pulling it out again in one swift movement. The pain was hot and searing, driving up his arm, knocking the breath out of him and forcing him to his knees.   
  
A whining howl filled his ears, incoherent screeching, echoing his – their – anger and pain. That was all that was left, as the feeling of his own body grew distant and his surroundings were pulled into sharp clarity. He felt hollow, the pain in his hand distant like a memory, yet the other pain seemed to grow in intensity, driving red tears into his eyes. The urge to tear something apart became unbearable.  
  
Yesyesyes. Tear them apart. Tear out throats, guts, bath in hot blood, squirting out between my fingers...  
Michael’s mouth twisted into a smile. He could already smell and taste it. He slowly got up, the movement unreal but he tried not to loose his focus. He had a direct line of sight to the cave. That was enough. There was no need to get closer. He knew they were there. He saw them. Two were sleeping, the other three were sitting at the fire, passing along a jug, taking long swigs from it. It was so easy. He didn’t have to be there, yet still he could reach out hands, touch them, hurt them.  
  
A cold chuckle echoed around him, then he drove his fingers into a warm body, took hold of one mans lung and squeezed until his screaming stopped and blood was gurgling out of his mouth. The other bandits screamed too. It didn’t matter. They didn’t know what attacked them, they couldn’t see. But he saw them and tore out the throat of the one who tried to run. The third stumbled, drunk, nearly falling into the knife he had drawn. Michael took a hold of the knife twisting it round and gutting the man like a pig, letting the dying body fall to the ground like a broken doll. The knife dropped beside him. The sleepers had woken and he tore into one, splitting his belly open with invisible fingers as sharp as claws. Blood and guts spilled out; hot, enticing. He tore out the man’s entrails while his squealing vibrated along his nerves like a pleasant caress. The last one, so rank with fear, had tried to run deeper into the dark tunnel. It was so easy to trap his legs, making him fall. Almost gently Michael put his claws around the man’s throat and squeezed slowly till the body stopped shaking and the gurgling sound died. Then he ripped the dead body apart.  
  
Blood had splattered everywhere. He raised his hands to his face, his tongue flicked out to get a taste of the sweet blood... but it was only his own on his hands. He looked up, he was back at the foot of the hill. He swayed slightly, some feeling creeping back into his body. But he knew he couldn’t end it yet. Something urged him back to the cave. He wasn’t done yet, there were three more bodies... How easy, how delicious to kill those too... “No. Must not.” His mind was flooded with a haze of blood, the taste of the kills sweet, yet some pieces of sanity were still there, pushed to the back of his mind, still slowly growing stronger, gaining control. “They are mine.” Mine, mine, mine...  
A content hum was the answer. They wouldn’t be killed. But there was something else that needed to be done.   
  
“One is wounded. He will die. You have to heal him.”  
  
Healing is pain too. Came the affirmation. An eerie chuckle rang in Michael’s ears and as he felt the cold air in his mouth he realised it was his own. “Not yet... get to it.” He willed himself to plunge deeper, embracing the feeling that his body wasn’t real, not his and pushed his presence up into the cave again. One of the bound figures was shivering, eyes wide, staring at the blood and maimed carcasses lit eerily by firelight. The older one was unconscious and the smallest, the boy, was bleeding his life away slowly from a wound to his gut. Michael touched the blood, the wound, finding what was broken and torn, knitting it all back together with his will.  The little body whimpered, tensed in pain than grew limp, though he kept on breathing. The wound was almost closed and healing. Too much pain for such a little body I remember our pain....  
  
Our.. “mine”  
  
Michael sank into the snow. His arm was on fire, like someone was pouring molten fire over it and he saw stars. His lungs filled sharply with cold air. He lay there gasping, his body trembling, feeling dizzy and weak.  
  
He didn’t hear the sound that hooves made in the snow, or the heavy riding boots that hit the ground nor then sound of someone hastening towards him. He didn’t see the lamplight. Suddenly there was a hand on his shoulder. “Michael?” The familiar voice. The cursed familiar voice. As if he cared.  
  
+++  
  
James had heard the screams from the cave as he had followed Michael. He froze, halting his horse and only dared to move closer as the awful sounds stopped. He had to think about what Michael had told him. About a demon killing a priest in the chapel. He couldn’t help wondering. So if Michael was the demon – or possessed (James hadn’t quite dismissed that possibility despite Michael’s denial), had he killed the priest as he had told? A sick feeling uncoiled in James’ stomach.   
  
He saw Michael’s horse first, before he noted the dark fallen figure lying in the snow. Quickly he jumped off his horse and hastened over. He sank down beside Michael, putting the lamp into the snow beside him and carefully touched Michael’s shoulder. “Michael?” As there was no reaction, he pushed his arm under Michael’s prone body and rolled him onto his back. The first thing he noted was the blood on Michael’s face. The second that he was still breathing. “Oh God, Michael, are you all right?”  
  
Michael blinked slowly, but his eyes focused on James’ face. “Yes.” His voice sounded hoarse and weak though.   
  
James pressed his lips together. Michael had made it quite clear before, that he didn’t want his help. For a moment he just looked down on him. ‘Arrogant... demon!’ “Then why are you lying in the snow?” Half angry he bent down to grab Michael and haul him up into a sitting position. Michael took hold of James’ shoulder. He slumped forward, half leaning against him. James reached into the pocket of his coat and took out a bottle. He uncorked it with his teeth and handed it to Michael. “Here, drink.”  
  
Michael frowned at him. “What is that?”  
  
“I have no idea. Your valet gave it to me. He told me you would need it. I guess he meant in case of - this.”  
  
Michael took the bottle and took a sip. He screwed up his face. “It’s cold.”  
  
“It was hot when he gave it to me, but in the cold that didn’t keep long.”  
  
Despite his displeasure about the liquids temperature Michael took some more gulps of the sweet smelling liquid before handing the bottle back for James to put the cork back in. For a moment he looked almost puzzled.  
  
James took a handkerchief and wanted to wipe the blood from Michael’s face. Michael caught his wrist before he could touch him. James frowned. “There is blood on your face. Are you hurt?”  
  
“No.” Michael plucked the handkerchief out of James hand and rubbed it over his face.   
  
James still braced Michael’s body, yet despite being so close the distance between him and Michael seemed tangible. Michael looked at the bloodsmeared fabric, then pocketed it, before he tried to get up. Wordlessly James helped him. “What now?”  
  
“The bandits are taken care of. I get the farmer and his sons and we get them back to their farm.” Michael started walking up the hill, towards where there was a fire burning in what looked like a cave-mouth. James picked up his lamp. Something caught his attention. He bent down to pick up what had glinted in the shine of the lamps yellow glow. It was Michael’s dagger, the one that had been lying beside him in the bedroom. The one he probably had used to cut himself. The blade was red, smeared with blood again. James slipped the dagger into his pocket. As he made to follow Michael up the hill he kept wondering if Michael had to cut himself every time he was doing some of his demon magic; and if it hurt.  
  
+++  
  
James stopped at the entrance of the tunnel and stared in shock at the bloodbath unravelling before him. He covered his mouth with his hand against the stench of blood and guts. In disbelieve his gaze searched out Michael, who calmly walked past the blood and gore to the three untouched figures that lay tied up to one side of the tunnel.  
  
“You can as well help me. The farmer is still unconscious. I guess he got dealt a blow to the head. But otherwise he is fine.” Michael took a knife and cut the ropes, first of the man, then the two boys. He started to speak in German. James realised the older of the two boys was pale and staring in shock at Michael.   
  
Fighting the urge to be sick James walked over to them, trying not to step on any of the blood or other things. He tried to keep in mind that those were the remains of men who wanted to kill the farmer and his family and would have gone on raiding and killing more innocent people. Had killed innocent people before. They deserved to die. But to be torn apart like this.    
  
Michael took the smaller boy and lifted him up. His older brother was suddenly shouting something and made to grab for him, then suddenly his eyes grew wide. He looked at Michael, then back at the carnage in the cave, then back at his little brother.  
  
James saw that the boy’s shirtfront was smeared with fresh blood. Quickly he came closer. Beneath the half torn away shirt he could see the boy’s belly. A fresh pink scar was all that marred the pale skin there.  
  
“D-danke, D-Durchlaucht.”   
  
Startled James looked at the boy’s brother who seemed still shaken but relieved as well. ‘Thank you’, he had understood as much.  
  
Michael only nodded curtly, then nodded towards James. “Er hilft dir deinen Vater zu tragen.”   
  
It seemed like only at Michael’s words the youth noted James’ presence. He nodded and moved to his fathers side. He clearly couldn’t move the unconscious taller man himself, so James came over to help. As Michael moved out of the way, James noted that he was swaying even under the slight weight of the small body he was carrying.  
  
They made it out of the cave and got the bandits horses (plus the ones the bandits had stolen from the farm), which they used for the farmer and his sons to get them back to where Matthias waited. From there they headed out to the farm, which was closer than the estate. James was feeling exhausted by the time they reached the farm, which consisted of a long one story building with the farmers living area, a stable and an extra barn.   
  
Michael had started to look like he was going to drop off his horse any moment now and he had to steady himself  by holding on to the saddle a moment, as he dismounted.  
  
Basically Matthias took over as they reached the farm, getting the farmer and the small boy settled and taken care of, while the youth was all determined to help and take care of the horses.   
  
Michael took one of the blankets they had brought along, then turned towards James. “I’m going to sleep in the barn, it’s probably the more comfortable place.” He hesitated. “There is another blanket.” Then he suddenly turned and headed towards the wooden building.  
  
James took the other blanket and came after him.  
  
Inside the barn it was warm enough and the dusty yet somewhat sweet smell of hey surrounded them.  
Michael didn’t bring a lamp, but he kept the barn-door open a moment and seemed to orientate himself by the dim light, before he closed it and then went ahead by feel alone. James strained his eyes, but he couldn’t make out anything that was ahead of him. He only herd Michael move. “There is a ladder here. I guess it will be warmer above. “  
“I can’t see a thing.” James was too tired to keep the frustration out of his voice.  
“I’m standing right beside it, just follow my voice.”  
  
James started moving gingerly forward. “Anything I might trip over?”  
  
“Nothing I noted.”  
  
“Wonderful.” He held one arm outstretched, so he wouldn’t run against something. But it was hard to walk on and he felt like he was losing his bearing. "Could you keep on talking?”  
  
“What do you want me to say?”  
  
“Anything... did you heal the boy?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Why.”  
  
There was a huff from Michael then the sound of him drawing a deep breath. “Why should I have let him die?”  
  
James had no answer to that. Because demons only kill people, not heal them, seemed not the right thing to say. And it was not as if he really knew what demons were supposed to do or think or feel. Suddenly something warm touched his hand and he was pulled foreward. He gave a small gasp but then felt himself relax as he felt Michael’s warm presence. His hands were on his, guiding him to grasp the ladder. “I’ll go up first.”  
  
Without hesitation Michael climbed up and James could feel the wood vibrate with each step. He followed much more careful and slow.  As he reached the upper level, Michael had moved away from the ladder. He could only make out Michael’s position by the rustling sound he made while lying down and getting comfortable.  
  
It would be warmer to curl up together. James stood there for a long moment staring at where Michael must be in the dark. The rustling sound stopped. Slowly James drew the blanket around himself, edged carefully forward, a little bit away from the ladder and lay down alone.  
  
tbc


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James is alone in the dark with his thoughts. Everything revolves around the secret he has uncovered, the questions it raises and Michael.

James lay alone in his bed, staring into the dark. It was past midnight already and everything around him was quiet. Michael, he and the servant come back to the estate some time during the early afternoon and Michael had gone straight to his rooms. They hadn’t talked. Not on the way back, not when they reached the estate. James had trouble formulating the questions he wanted to ask and he kept being held back by the fact how tired Michael still looked. Tired and grim.  
  
After eating – alone – James had gone to bed as well to sleep for some more hours and after dinner – taken on his own too – he had decided to just go right back to sleep. There didn’t seem anything else to do anyway. But now he was wide awake in the middle of the night. And his thoughts were spiralling around one subject. Michael. Fürst Fassbender. He tried to distance himself in his thoughts from the man/demon, but whenever he tried, the memory of the man’s hands on his body resurfaced. Their touch hot, drawing pleasure, making him writhe and moan. James swallowed. He caught himself just as his hand slipped over the blanket, pressing down on his groin. He gritted his teeth, pulled his hand back and decidedly pulled the blankets up over his head, stifling a moan. Only when he felt like suffocating under the thick blanket did he push it back again.   
  
He felt guilty that he still had lustful thoughts of the man... demon. The person who had slaughtered bandits so carelessly; had – most likely – killed an innocent priest. That thought managed to sober him up somewhat.  
  
Slowly James sat up in bed. His lips were twisted in a wry smile. Several days ago  the thought of sleeping with a man had seemed – wrong. He had quickly taken to the pleasure Michael gave him. Now he found out he was a demon. A creature able to do carnage without having to touch or even get close to his victims. And that didn’t seem to stop his body from finding pleasure at the thought of the man touching him. The thought scared him.  
  
He buried his hands in his hair. He really wished he had never taken that ‘shortcut’, never stumbled upon this remote estate, never felt Michael touch him. ‘Liar!’  
  
James cringed, moved around restlessly, turned onto his stomach and buried his face in the pillows. He squeezed his eyes close, trying to shut out the world and his thoughts. He lay like that for not even a minute before he pushed back the blanket in frustration and got up. He moved to the hearth got the candlestick from there and lit it, then went over to the bureau near the window. On it lay the slim dagger James had picked up from when Michael dropped it in the snow. It seemed like Michael hadn’t yet realised that he had lost it. Carefully James’ fingers touched the blood-encrusted blade.   
  
The blood looked normal, human. Did Michael feel pain just like a human too? Again he wondered how the cutting was connected to the ‘magic’ Michael did. Was it some sort of blood sacrifice?  
  
It seemed so absurd, to think that demons were real.   
  
James took the dagger and went over to the washstand. He poured some water into one of the basins, took a cloth and carefully cleaned the blade. Just concentrating on the task. He thoroughly wiped the blade, making sure it was completely dry and no dirt remained. It should be oiled too now, but he didn’t have anything suitable and he doubted he would find the weapons oil easily, should he start rummaging round the estate. So James put the dagger back on the bureau. In the candlelight something on the underside of the crossguard caught his attention. There was an inscription.  
It was in German and some was hard to make out. The word that caught his eye though was ‘Sohn’. ‘Son’. He looked at the dagger more closely. The stile was not unfashionable and it made James wonder if the dagger had been in Michael’s family long, an heirloom, or rather, if it had been a more recent purchase, a gift, from his father.   
  
‘Did his parents know what he was? Everything hints that something happened at those ruins when he was a child.’  
  
Gingerly he put the dagger down again.   
  
+++  
  
James had put on a dressing gown and walked down to the gallery. As he passed through Michael’s salon he stopped, his gaze involuntarily drawn towards the bedroom door. But he quickly turned away and moved on. Though his thoughts lingered. Was Michael asleep or maybe laying awake like he had done. Grey or white eyes staring into the dark? Human or demon?  
  
 _"I’m not possessed."_  
  
Human and demon?  
  
James opened the door to the gallery. The candleflames from his candelabra started flickering and for a moment James feared they would go out. His heartbeat quickened and he held his breath. Slowly he let it out again as the flickering died down and the candles continued to burn. He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling foolish. How old was he, to be afraid of the dark? There was nothing here to be afraid of. ‘Except a demon sleeping in the dark.’ James gave an involuntary chuckle and flinched at the sudden sound in the quiet night. Despite what Michael had done, what he was, he hadn’t hurt him. He had annoyed him, oh yes, very much so, but never hurt. What he had done was help him; and his horse. The thought made James pause. Had he used his demonic powers in search for his horse?  Did he cut himself for that too, causing himself pain, just to help an unwelcome intruder?  
  
He needed answers. Though he wasn’t entirely sure to what the questions were. Decidedly he closed the door behind himself and moved on into the gallery, shining the candlelight at the paintings, searching.  
  
There was one painting, a family portrait. Michael had shown it to him before. There was Michael, maybe thirteen years old, beside him a hunting dog, one hand resting on the dogs head, that looked devotedly up at him. He was standing beside his mother, who sat in a chair that was mostly obscured by the elaborate gown she was wearing. Behind them stood Michael’s father, one hand on his wives shoulder, the other holding a cane. He had died some ten years ago from lung fever and his mother, who had been taken ill too, never fully recovered and followed her husband some six months later.  
  
James raised his candelabra so it lit on the boy’s face. The young version of Michael looked quite earnest out of the painting, but beside that there was nothing odd about him, nothing that indicated that he was not human. James took a step back and gazed at the scene. A tree shaded the family from the outdoor sun. There was a deep dark green wood on the horizon while on the left side of the painting the estate itself was visible. James shook his head. The painting was formal and – lifeless. It showed him nothing of the people it depicted but was like so many other family paintings.   
  
Slightly frustrated he turned away, his eyes searching the walls for some other painting, maybe of Michael alone. But if there were any more portraits of him, they weren’t here on display.   
There seemed to be only one painting that meant anything. The Nightmare. James stopped in front of it, a slight frown creasing his forehead, as he tried to remember exactly what Michael had said about it.  
  
The hideous creature staring out  of the painting, a nightmare turned flesh: _“Alp.... Nachtmahr. Both mean similar ghostlike creatures of the night. I like to think of it as... a demon.”_  
  
The way the woman in white lies there: _“Like she fell and her body is broken?  The way her neck is bent backwards... I can’t help think she might break, if she slipped down. But the demon on her chest is keeping her from falling, keeping her safe actually.”_  
  
 _“Strange that you actually picked my favourite painting.”_  
  
‘The demon is keeping her safe?’ Was the demon keeping Michael safe, protecting him? When James had entered Michael’s bedroom that one night and Michael had woken up as he had bent closer and had looked at him out of white eyes. Had that been the demon, ready to attack should he intend any harm?  
  
But then why did Michael say he wasn’t possessed?  
  
James put the candelabra down on the ground in front of the painting and stepped back. The flickering light painted eerie shadows on the dark canvas and for a moment James thought he saw the horses head move slightly. He shivered but forced himself to look closely. The painting looked exactly like always. It had just been a trick of the light after all.  
  
He took two more steps back, crossing his arms in front of his chest, staring intently at the painting. He wasn’t sure what he was hoping to see or find.   
  
‘She is falling.’  
  
‘The demon keeps her from falling.’  
  
 _“Do you ever dream of falling?”_  
  
The ruins of the church. Did the demon catch Michael as he fell?   
  
_Demon... Fallen Angel._  
  
Was the story he had told true?  
  
Suddenly the candles flickered like caught in a draft. Startled James flinched back. Eyes wide he looked down the gallery, towards the door, fearing, no, half hoping. But there was no one there. He looked back at the painting and it looked more sinister than before. The darkness in the gallery suddenly felt oppressing. Goosebumps where rising all over James body his heart-rate was speeding up and he broke into a cold sweat. His eyes not leaving the painting he got closer again and bent down to pick up the candelabra, then edged back, all the while calling himself a fool for becoming so scared of a mere painting. Nevertheless he had to force himself to turn around, turn his back to the painting and walk calmly out of the gallery, without looking back while his instincts screamed at him to run.  
  
He breathed a huge sigh of relieve as he finally reached the salon. The room with its carpets, couch that was overspilling with cushions, drapes, furniture in dark but warm colours looked more real and grounded. James set down the candelabra on the little table where the bottles with schnapps and liqueur stood and poured himself a small glass of the brown nut-schnapps. He downed the liquid in one gulp. It burnt down his throat, but then a nice warm feeling started spreading from his stomach. He closed his eyes for a moment and licked his lips.  
  
He poured himself another glass and went over to the couch, where he sat down, sipping at his glass. His eyes rested on the cold fireplace in front of him, but then he shifted a little and tilted his head to one side. He stole a glance at the closed bedroom door.  
‘Just last night’, he thought, ‘no, it’s two nights ago now.’ He frowned, then took another sip. His thoughts moved away from the closed bedroom where he had spent the last nights only to circle around the last time he had sat on the couch, with Michael’s head in his lap. He lifted the glass right in front of his face and gave it a long scrutinising look, trying hard to concentrate only on the liquid. It was a nice colour, brown with a warm gingery overtone, specially by candlelight it had those reddish highlights, just like Michael’s hair.  
  
“Damn it!” James downed the rest of the schnapps in one go and stood up, way too fast. He swayed and fell back down onto the couch, the glass slipped from his fingers and fell onto the carpet with a muffled clank. James sat there for a moment, blinking dumbfounded, then rubbed his hands over his face. Slowly he tried to stand up once more. This time he managed, only his head felt a little light. So he wasn’t really drunk from those two glasses, just a little tipsy. He shouldn’t drink on an empty stomach, that was all.  
  
His thoughts drifted to the bedroom door again, as did his gaze. He walked over, his hand hovered over the doorhandle, then carefully he pushed it down and opened the door. The light from the candelabra, that stood in the salon, barely managed to penetrate the darkness of the bedroom. Still James gazed fixedly at where he knew the bed was. And after some time, he was able to make out the prone figure of Michael resting on the bed. His head was turned toward the door and he had one leg pulled up, one pale naked knee sticking out from underneath the blankets.  
  
Michael slept without a night-gown, even in winter. He said he was warm enough. James had felt warm enough too, while sleeping next to him. He swallowed.  
  
Michael didn’t look like a demon.  
  
“Perhaps I’m the one possessed. Possessed by you!” James whispered softly, before he forced himself to close the door again.   
###  
tbc


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Confrontations. James has to face his fears, though they are different than what Michael thinks them to be. And in the end there are some things he is not willing to admit to himself.  
> James asks to see Michael use his demonic powers, which he agrees to – but he wants something in return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it seems my ff has inspired a gif: http://fassbender-mcavoyobsessed.tumblr.com/post/17354204187/so-i-just-read-this-the-darkness-that-defines In turn it inspired a scene in this chapter XD Thank you for the lovely inspiration!  
> Again only James POV but I think next chapter should be more of Michael’s POV again

Tracking down Michael the next day was harder than he had thought. He hadn’t been there for breakfast, he wasn’t in his salon nor the library or his study and as James felt courageous enough to knock on his bedroom door, there was no answer from there either. When he turned around though, Michael’s valet was standing in the doorway, looking at him almost - calculating. He didn’t say anything but it appeared as if he was waiting for James to say or ask something.  
  
James frowned, then slowly realisation dawned. He licked his lips. A simple question in German, he should manage that. “Wo ist Fürst Fassbender?”  
  
It almost looked like a smile was tugging at the valet’s lips. “Seine Durchlaucht ist draußen im Park.”, came the answer James only half understood. But the words were accompanied with a gesture to follow him and as James did, Ferdinand showed him to the windows overlooking the park at the back of the mansion. He gestured outside and James looked. In the distance between the bare trees that reached dark fingers into the pale blue sky, he could make out a dark figure.  
  
James nodded. “Danke.” He turned and went upstairs to fetch his coat. As he came downstairs again and looked out the window, he noted to his satisfaction, that Michael was still outside. James headed out.  
  
The snow was crunching under his boots as he walked between cut hedges and trees toward the man standing at a balustrade that led to a lower level of the garden, where the architect had used the natural rolling landscape to create different levels. Michael didn’t turn around as he got closer, though surely he must have heard the sound his boots made in the snow.  
  
James stepped up to the balustrade, keeping a safe arm-length between him and Michael. His gaze swept over the snow-covered garden, before he gave the other man a sideways glance. Michael ignored him, looking straight ahead. His gloved hands rested on the stone. James gaze was drawn to the long fingers encased in tight fitting black leather. Unconsciously he sucked at his lower lip, trying to ignore the images his mind suddenly choose to conjure up.  Those gloved hands teasing his naked body…  
  
Not the way to go here. He needed a clear head and couldn’t let his carnal desire eradicate all sane thoughts.  
  
“I hoped to speak to you this morning during breakfast.”  
  
“Did you.” It looked like Michael would go on staring straight ahead, but then he tilted his head just a fraction and gave James an unreadable sideways glance. His eyes looked pale in the daylight.  
  
James frowned. “Are you trying to avoid me?”  
  
Michael didn’t answer at first. When he finally turned towards James, his gaze bore into him. Suddenly he took a step closer, almost leaning over James, their bodies touching. James refused to back down, though his heart rate had picked up, and not because he was afraid. Michael looked down at him, then raised a hand as if to touch James’ face. Without realising, he jerked back slightly. Michael let his hand sink. “No. I simply do not wish to speak to you.” He turned around and left.  
  
James stared after him aghast, anger slowly rising up inside him. For a moment he had the urge to run after Michael, tackle him to the ground and – just hit him. Huffing James braced himself against the balustrade, trying to calm himself. ‘That arrogant…’ He pushed away and turned, watching as Michael’s black clad figure disappeared back into the estate.  
  
James licked his lips. He might not want to talk with him, but… What did he want then? ‘Does he want me to leave?’ James bit his lower lip. “Damn it!” he frowned, shifted his weight from one foot to the other, undecided what to do. He couldn’t just start ignoring him. Determined he walked back.  
  
To his surprise he found Ferdinand waiting for him as  he entered. Michael’s valet took his coat with a smile and informed him: “Seine Durchlaucht ist in seinem Arbeitszimmer.”  
  
James frowned slightly at the words, but Ferdinand gestured toward the salon. James nodded and walked towards the door but then hesitated as he remembered something. He turned and quickly walked up to his room. The bed was made and clearly a servant had been in here already to clean up, but the slim dagger still lay on his bureau. James picked it up and slowly walked down again.  
  
Michael wasn’t in the salon but the door that led to his study from there was standing slightly ajar. James couldn’t help wonder if that hadn’t been the valet’s doing, giving him a hint as to were Michael was. He seemed rather eager for him to… what? James shook his head. It was enough to puzzle about Michael for now.  
  
Michael was sitting at his desk near the window; he had taken off his jacket and west. There was a fire burning in the hearth, but the rooms pale colours made it appear colder  than the salon. There was a filing cabinet where everything was neat and in order, yet Michael’s table looked a mess, with different papers strewn about randomly. It didn’t look like he was making any progress in organising the chaos, he only shuffled some papers around from one chaotic pile to another. James closed the door behind himself and leant against it for a moment. Michael thought he was terrible at being a diplomat, well, time to prove otherwise.  
  
He licked his lips, then pushed away from the door, walked over to were Michael sat and wordlessly put the dagger down on the table in front of him. Startled Michael looked at it, then up at James. A look of surprise crossed his face. James just stood there, waiting patently.  Michael touched the dagger with his fingers. “Where did you…”  
  
“I found it in the snow, where you had collapsed.”  
  
Michael took it and put it aside. “I hadn’t noticed it was gone… thank you.” The words were clipped, but he said them.  
  
“Does it hurt?” It seemed the least provocative point to start.  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“When you cut yourself. Does it hurt?”  
  
Michael huffed. “Of course it does.”  
  
James reached out, his fingers brushed lightly against Michael’s hand before he noticed what he was doing and pulled back. “I’m... can I see it?”  
  
Michael was watching him sharply, but then slowly turned his left hand, palm up. The hand looked smooth, no scars visible. Suddenly Michael balled his hand to a fist and stood up. “What do you want?”  
  
James was startled by the sudden movement. Michael was standing close and James had to resist the urge to lean back. “I want to know... try to understand. What you are, why you do those things.”  
  
Michael’s lips twisted in a sneer. “And what ‘things’ do you mean by that?”  
  
James sighed. “The killing – no – the carnage. The way you tore those bandits apart. Was that... necessary?”  
  
“No.” A smile spread on Michael’s lips, one that didn’t reach his eyes. “But I wanted to do it.”  
  
The cold answer made James shiver and avert his gaze. ”Do you think they deserved it?”  
  
“Yes. Think about what they probably have done. What they would have done to the farmer and his sons. Actually, I think the got off easy. After all, it did not take me long to kill them.”  
  
James closed his eyes. It felt just so wrong to hear those words from Michael’s lips. The man he had begged to be touched by. His throat felt tight. “Did the priest in your chapel deserve to die too?” It was a stab in the dark. But it bothered James the most. The bandits; that was cruel, but they had to be dealt with. If Michael really killed the priest, well James couldn’t quite fathom what could justify that.  
  
Suddenly Michael grabbed him and pushed him back. “Don’t!” Michael’s voice was a dangerous hiss. “Don’t you dare judge me!” James stumbled back, while Michael still held on to his jacket, he tripped, kept from falling only by Michael’s hand, then suddenly he found himself shoved back, right into the big armchair that stood to one side. Michael let go but moved in close, one hand braced on the armrest, the other beside James’ head. James noted dimly that one of Michael’s knees pushed against his. Michael’s face was set in an angry snarl. James’ heart started to beat faster as Michael leant over him. ”You have no idea!” The words spilled hot against his skin with Michael’s breath.  
  
James gritted his teeth. “Then tell me!”  
  
But Michael drew back. Quickly James grabbed one of Michael’s wrists, pulling hard at it, no letting the man go again without getting answers. So much for diplomacy. “Don’t ignore me!”  
  
Michael tried to twist his hand free but James’ grip stayed strong, fired by anger. Suddenly Michael gave way. The sudden lack of a struggle made James pull the hand closer, Michael used the momentum to be pulled forward, pushing his free hand against James’ shoulder, pressing him against the armchair. He sneered at James’ shocked face as he suddenly was invading his space again. “What right do you think you have to demand answers from me? I closed the door, you climbed in through the window. You ... spied on me.”  
  
“What right?!” James sputtered. “You.. I slept with you. I thought that ...”  
  
“What?” Michael cut him off sharply. “That it entitles you to my secrets?”  
  
James’ eyes grew wide. The words felt like a punch in the gut. His grip on Michael’s wrist slipped.  
“No... but it makes me care.”  
  
“Care? For a demon? You should be afraid. I could do things to you. I could force you to do what I want.”  
  
“But you don’t, you didn’t. You told me I had to come to you, you didn’t... “ ‘It was my decision in the end. I let myself be snared in.’ But Michael hadn’t done anything to him. Nothing bad. Up to the point James had found out he was not human; not entirely. ‘He has the power to tear people apart. He is angry at me that I found out, yet he doesn’t hurt me. Instead he tries to avoid me. He... runs away from me.’ James own anger died down slowly. Those little hints he picked out only added to the puzzle though. He took a deep breath and managed to speak more softly, less demanding. “What happened to you as a child? At the ruins...please.”  
  
Michael looked into his eyes. James held the gaze though he felt a slow tension rising. Grey eyes, not white. What would he do, if it were the demon staring at him like that? Could he stay that calm?  
  
Michael leant closer still. His voice was soft, as he whispered the words at James’ ear. “I slipped, I fell, I died.” Michael’s hand slipped from James’ shoulder and rested against his chest. James’s heart was beating strongly against it. “You are afraid.”  
  
“No.” James shook his head. “You died? How come you are alive now?” He wanted to turn his head, to look at Michael’s face, but he didn’t dare, fearing Michael would not go on telling him what he wanted to know.  
  
“My body was broken. You have seen the cliff, from up and you have been down there. You know how steep it is. It’s surprising I didn’t break my neck and was dead right then and there. Instead ...” Michael took a deep shuddering breath, that made the hair on James’ neck stand on end. “Instead every bone in my body felt broken, everything was pain. I couldn’t move, even breathing hurt. It was strange, realising I was dying. That’s when he found me... or I think he was there all along. He was only a shadow of his past self. But there was something he could do to let me survive. He could mend my body but only if he ... became me. If we shared my body, my... soul... everything.”  
  
Unconsciously James put one hand up to cover Michael’s hand that was resting against his chest. “So you _are_ possessed!”  
  
“No. He _is_ me. We are the same, we both want the same thing. We have the same thoughts. The boy I was before died that day, as did the demon. All that is left of both of us is me. “  
  
“But when you use these powers. Your eyes, your voice... why do you cut yourself?”  
  
“The pain, it drives us apart enough that he can access his old powers. But it’s not like we are two different beings. We can’t exist apart. As a child it happened accidentally, this slipping apart. That is the only moment when it feels a little like there were... two of me, with one being not entirely me. But now I need the pain for it to work.”  
  
“Does he have a name?”  
  
“No. Perhaps he had one once, but he never told me.”  
  
“But you say he?”  
  
Michael shrugged. “This is how I think of him, how I hear his voice. Perhaps it is only because he became me.” Michael moved back slightly, his gaze shifted to his hand on James’ chest. “You are afraid of me now... I can feel it.”  
  
James shook his head. “I’m not afraid of you hurting me. It seems insane, but... I’m not afraid.“ He looked down, uncertain and realised his hand covered Michael’s. ‘I’m more scared of myself.’ But he wouldn’t say it. By all means, he should leave, not try to understand the demon. ‘Much less still want him.’ He tried to ignore that little voice, but it was getting harder.  
  
“You certain?” Michael moved in as if to kiss him. James turned his head away, closing his eyes trying not to give in. It felt worse than before. Because he already had admitted to himself that he wanted the man, because he knew how good it felt to be touched by him. But it should matter that he was a demon, someone capable of cruel killings.  
  
“See, I’m right.” Michael’s voice held no triumph, but was toneless. He let go of him and straightened up.  
  
“No, wait. “ James scrambled up from the armchair. For some reason it seemed important to prove to Michael that he wasn’t afraid of him. But not by admitting the truth, he couldn’t do that. “Can you show me.. please.”  
  
“Show you what?” There was a distance in Michael’s voice again that made James tense.  
  
“Your other ... half.” James’ voice died down and he gave a helpless little shrug. He didn’t know how to call it and he didn’t know if he was asking in hope to prove Michael wrong or to prove himself wrong. “I know you have to hurt yourself for it but... please, I need to see, to prove I’m not...”  
  
Michael looked him up and down. There were questions in his gaze, but he didn’t ask. “All right. But I want something for it.”  
  
Nervously James licked his lips. “What would that be?”  
  
“Your mouth.”  
  
James’ eyes widened slightly and he felt his face grow hot.  
  
Michael watched him closely, then added softly. “To do with as I please.”  
  
James felt his mouth go dry. That could imply many things, from mere kissing to having to pleasure Michael with his mouth. The thought sent a spark of heat down from his belly. ‘God he is making this way to easy for me.’ “Yes.” His voice cracked and he swallowed. “All right, it seems only fair.” ‘What am I saying?’  
  
Michael raised an eyebro,w but then a shadow of a smile tugged at his lips. He went over to his desk and picked up the dagger from there. James’ eyes stayed on the blade, as Michael grasped it with his free hand and in one swift movement cut the palm of his left. James winced in sympathy. Michael put the dagger back onto the desk. Slowly James looked up at his face, but he had his eyes closed, face twisting up and his breathing started to go ragged, like he had to struggle for each lung-full of air. His eyelids fluttered and slowly he opened them. White orbs captured James’ gaze.  
  
James felt goosebumps rise all over his body, but he didn’t avert his eyes. _“So you do not run. But does that mean you aren’t scared or too scared to move?”_ The voice had an odd rasping echo too it.  
  
James searched Michael’s face for any indication of something demonic. “You don’t look different. Apart from the eyes.”  
  
 _“Disappointed?”_  
  
James shook his head. “This... this is how you got my horse back?”  
  
 _“Yes”_  
  
“Did you heal it?”  
  
 _“Partly. The leg was broken, so I had to. But I wanted to make sure you stayed. And you would have been too suspicious if it were miraculously whole from one night to the next.”_  
  
“You healed the boy too.”  
 _  
“You know that already.”_  
  
Was that the demon part or Michael? Or both. Michael seemed to think there was no longer a difference. Why would a demon who found pleasure in killing bother to heal people... or horses.  
  
Michael looked over at the desk and one of the papers from there, started floating over to him. James blinked at the sight. Suddenly the paper crumbled up, like crushed by invisible hands. Michael raised a hand, fingers moving ever so slightly and the paper started to reshape itself, like it was soft and pliable. It looked like it was smooth and soft to an invisible touch, letting itself be teased in any shape whatsoever. Finally James recognised the shape it took as that of a rose. Finished it was spinning gently in the air, just above Michael's hand.  
  
“It’s beautiful.” Was Michael trying to tell him that he could not only destroy and kill? “What else can you do?”  
  
The paper-rose settled on Michael’s blood-smeared palm. _“Whatever I like.”_  
  
James bit his lower lip, somehow he doubted that.  
  
Michael sent the rose back into the air and, spinning gently, it settled on the desk, next to the bloodied dagger.  
  
“Really, whatever? Whatever you, the demon, you both want to do. No limits, no reservations? I’ve seen you exhausted after what you did.”  
  
 _“All right.... not whatever, but enough.”_ Michael smirked. _“Enough to get what we - I want.”_ Michael took a step closer, his movements were slow but James didn’t feel like backing away. Mesmerised he watched the white eyes. _“Mine... We both want the same thing, We...”_ Michael’s eyelids fluttered and he suddenly took a deep breath, as if he was resurfacing from nearly drowning. His chest heaved with ragged breaths but his gaze was on James. “I want you.”  
  
James’ breathing caught in his throat.  
  
Michael smiled, then waved James closer with his hand. The little gesture made James shiver in anticipation. He walked toward Michael, feeling flustered and much to eager. He tried telling himself that it was just to get it over with. ‘Liar.’ That he only thought that it was fair, since he had asked Michael to hurt himself for his curiosity. ‘Liar:’ That he felt reluctant in this deal he had made. ‘Liar.’ That he didn’t look forward to this. It was so stupid, trying to lie to himself. ‘This is exactly what you want.’ He tried to stop thinking. Instead he took Michael’s left hand gently in his and pulled it up. There was blood but the wound had healed. Carefully he brushed the blood away with his finger. Michael’s fingers twitched slightly. “Does it still hurt?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Good.” James pulled the hand to his lips and gently kissed the back of it. He looked up, gaze searching Michael’s, who looked mesmerised at him. Michael moved his hand and James let go. He put his fingers under James’ chin and brushed his thumb over James’ bottom lip. “You have the most delectable mouth I’ve seen.” He tilted his head to one side, looking thoughtful for a moment. “Let’s see how we can put that to good use.” Michael’s lips brushed against his and James parted his lips shamelessly, a small gasp escaping his mouth.  
  
He heard a little surprised sound from Michael, but couldn’t think about it, as Michael kissed him, plundering his mouth. Michael was relentless. He sucked hard at his lips, pulling at them with his teeth biting down yet not hard enough to be on the brink of painful. But just not quite.  
  
James’ lips prickled hot and his lips felt swollen as Michael finally stopped his assault. He could hear himself panting heavily.  
  
Michael smiled down at him. “You look like you want more.”  
  
James barely caught himself before he could nod. Michael seemed to have noticed nevertheless. “Say, ‘yes please’.”  
  
James bristled at the command and pressed his lips together.  
  
“What’s that? Already going back on your word?” Michael chided. “Or do I have to remind you. ‘Your mouth, to do with as I please.’ And if it pleases me, your mouth will say exactly what I want it to.”  
  
That had been something that hadn’t crossed James’ mind before. Nervously he licked his lips. “Yes, please.”  
  
“That’s better.” Michael sounded smug. Nevertheless he stepped away from James, walked around him and settled down on the armchair. “Come here.”  
  
James had turned his head to follow Michael with his gaze. Now he moved without hesitation to stand before him, though he wasn’t certain where to move from there. He flinched slightly as he involuntarily bit his still swollen lip.  
  
“Get down on your knees.”  
  
He should argue that ‘to do with your mouth as I please’ sure did not imply that he could order him about like that. But his knees felt weak, and he knelt, though he was slightly embarrassed and didn't look up at Michael. Suddenly he was grabbed by the his jacket and pulled up between Michael’s legs for another kiss. James groaned into Michael’s mouth, not able to pretend he didn’t want this. ‘He’s a demon after all, making you want this.’ James’ thoughts were a tangled mess. ‘Don’t be foolish, blaming him for what you want.’ He braced himself on Michael’s legs.  
  
This time Michael ended the kiss with more gentler nips and licks to James’ already abused mouth. The little touches still made him whimper softly.  
  
“You’re perfect now.”  
  
James blinked dazed eyes at Michael. It took him a moment to realise what Michael was doing. He opened his trousers, pulled out his shirt and freed his erection. James shifted, feeling his own arousal at the sight of Michael’s impressive cock. Michael’s hand cupped his cheek, tugging him closer.  
  
James’ lips felt like they were burning as they brushed against Michael’s erection. He half closed his eyes and licked along the underside of Michael’s cock. “Yes!” Michael’s moan encouraged him. He wrapped one hand around Michael’s cock and slowly took him into his mouth. His free hand pushed against Michael’s hips keeping him down. It was arousing hearing Michael moan, feeling his arousal. Michael’s hands were buried in his hair, tugging, urging him on.  
  
Just before he came gave a warning sound. James moved back using his hands to finish him off.  
  
He looked up at Michael, who had his eyes closed breathing heavily. Finally he moved his head, looking down at James, a smile tugging at his lips. “Beautiful.”  
  
James blinked, dazed.  
  
Michael took a handkerchief and wiped himself clean, then handed it to James while he got dressed again. James wiped his hands clean. He didn’t dare move, painfully aware of his own straining erection trapped in his trousers.  
  
“Is there something you want?” Michael’s voice was close and as James moved his head he realised Michael had got down on one knee behind him.  
  
“You can tell me to say whatever you want.” James voice came out as a groan. ‘Please, please, make me say it.’ He was begging shamelessly, if only in his mind.  
  
“Yes.” Gently Michael brushed the back of one finger against James’ cheek. “But I don’t want to now. So unless there is something you want to say...”  
  
James pressed his lips together tightly, ignoring how sensitive they felt. Slowly he got up. He felt, humiliated, angry at himself and still aroused. Yet he couldn’t say it. He left Michael’s study without looking back.  
  
Michael was watching him, a confident smile spreading on his lips.

  
###

tbc


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More questions, more answers. James tries to understand, but what he doesn’t realise is the power he holds over Michael.  
> mainly Michael’s POV with a dash of James’ at the end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this update is late. Too much to do and I specially didn’t want to rush this chapter because of what is happening in it.   
> Also there will probably not be another update this week, but sure the next!

Michael was cursing the snow.  
If it weren’t for it, he would be back at his estate, eating breakfast with James. Instead he was out on his horse, inspecting a bridge that had been reported to have partially collapsed. Pulling up the collar of his coat against the wind, he waited on horseback, while three of his men inspected the damage more closely. His thoughts though were back at his estate.  
  
He had believed having found out his secret James’ would keep his distance. The way he reacted indicated just that to him. Thinking back he should have noticed that James wasn’t as scared as he had thought he would be. He followed him, offered to help and showed concern.  
But every time he flinched back hot anger rose in Michael. He felt like lashing out, not at James, but the world in general. He had cursed himself for having enjoyed the other man’s company so much, that its absence could bring him pain.    
  
Waking in the halfgloom of the barn the next day, with James sleeping a good distance away. It had driven home the point that he did no longer care for him. No longer wanted to be touched by a demon, now that he knew. It hadn’t helped that his dreams that night had been filled with James. There was a moment in the dark barn, when James had struggled through the darkness, when he pulled him closer so he would find the ladder. In his dream James hadn’t grasped for the ladder but for him, touching and embracing him.  
  
The thought that he could always force him to do as he pleased was only a fleeting one the next day and tasted hollow. He didn’t want what James’ wasn’t willing to give. He would rather avoid him. That James actually wanted to understand what was going on with him, took some time to realise, but no wonder, since very time James opened his mouth all that spilled out were accusations of the killings. A shame, when James could do so much sweeter things with his mouth. And how much more delicious as Michael realised that James was almost eager, though he clearly wasn’t willing to admit it. Still having some reservations to fall in the hands of a demon. Or was he worried about all the things he suspected him to have done.  
  
Absently Michael leant forward and stroked his horses neck. The beast flicked its ears back at him then shook its head with a snort. Warm breath spilling in little visible puffs from its nostrils.  
  
“Your Lordship,” one of his men came over from the river. “We’ve inspected the remaining beams, they pretty much all look like these.” He held up a piece of rotten wood for him to exam. Michael looked it over, displeasure showing on his face.   
  
“Why hasn’t anyone reported that earlier. No one noticed in autumn? We’re lucky nobody was on the bridge when it gave way.”   
  
“I’m sorry, Your Lordship. It’s like this, when autumn came we had those floods and that bridge held, but all the water damaged it and since the river wasn’t crossable at that time, no one bothered to check, and then winter came.. “  
  
Michael cut the man off with a gesture. “It should have been inspected. Now we’ve got to wait till spring. Nothing can be done as long as the ground is frozen. The farmers just will have to make a detour over the hills.”  
  
“Yes, Your Lordship. But come spring, when everything is thawing, the river is bound to rise again. Well, just sayin’ this could take till summer, till the bridge can be properly repaired. Lots of time lost, when the farmers have to go the long way.” The man gave Michael a look that was a mixture of hopeful and expectant.  
  
Michael huffed. “Then there is nothing that can be done about that. Perhaps next autumn everyone will remember to check the bridges more carefully. Now bar that wretched thing off, so nobody tries to cross it accidentally.” If only rotten bridges could keep the French from invading. It  would be worth considering to ruin bridges on purpose.  
  
For a moment it looked as if the man wanted to say some more, but then he just bowed. “Yes, Your Lordship.” He moved back to the others and gave orders on how to proceed.  
  
Michael’s horses pranced nervously. Michael took a tighter hold on the reigns and steered it round. He was eager to get back to his estate... someone was waiting for him there after all – he hoped.  
  
+++  
  
“I’m sorry your Lordship, he was very... agitated, so I thought it best to leave him alone.” Ferdinand helped him out of his coat, took  his hat and the neckcloth Michael hated to wear when he was inside.  
  
“It’s alright.” Michael was looking thoughtful for a moment. “Really, he yelled at the stablehands?” Michael wasn’t sure if he should be worried or amused by the news, that had greeted him by his return.   
  
“Yes your Lordship. One of the horses actually was getting rather wild at all the commotion and they were getting very worried. But your orders are clear, that no one is allowed to give the Earl one of the horses without your explicit permission.”  
  
Michael smiled. “It’s good to hear they still fear my wrath more than James’ temper.”  
  
Ferdinand looked misgiving and a little worried at that. “Truly, Your Lordship, I would not put it like that; that it is out of fear that they obey.”  
  
Michael looked at the fireplace, where the red and yellow flames were burning, filling the room with pleasant warmth. “There are only a handful people were I am certain of that.” He wasn’t entirely sure, if he could count James in among those. But he didn’t linger on the thought. “So my angry diplomat was last seen walking through the gallery.”  
  
“Yes. I wanted to ask him if there was anything I could get him, but he did not answer me. He did leave his coat and hat in the library though, so I am sure he hasn’t left the estate.”  
  
Michael only gave a short nod and then headed for the gallery himself, where he did not find James. He had expected as much. He felt he knew very well were an angry James, restrained to the estate, would be headed to. Especially after the questions he had been asking yesterday, it was clear what his thoughts were revolving around.   
  
He should feel enraged that James had acted against his wishes, but strangely enough he wasn’t. He stopped at his favourite painting in the gallery, fingers ghosting over the broad golden frame that was bare any decorations. There was no need for him to go close to the chapel, nor in it. James would come back at some point and he could just go to his study or the library and... wait. What if James slipped past him somehow though. He could use the stairs at the other end of the estate to get to the first floor and from there back to his rooms, or, anywhere else.   
  
Michael turned away from the painting and walked on. The rooms beyond the library were as empty and gloomy as always, but he found the door leading to the marble room in front of the chapel open. For a moment he stopped, looking into the darkness. Slowly his back and shoulders tensed and his hands clenched to fists.   
  
It irritated him how uneasy he felt here, at a part of his home. It had got worse again, since he had walked into the chapel on his pursuit of James.  
  
Slowly he walked past the door and sat down on the stairs leading up to the first storey. Leaning forward slightly he braced his arms on his knees and closed his eyes. He tried to listen, for steps, someone shuffling around, anything, but all was quiet in this part of the estate. Just what was James doing in the chapel? Perhaps he wasn’t going to come out but waited for Michael to walk in. But he knew what would happen, didn’t he. Perhaps it was his way of punishing him for restricting his freedom of movement.  
  
Michael opened his eyes again and pinched the bridge of his nose with two fingers. The air smelled musty and old here. Come spring this part needed to be aired out, used or not. But the strange smell was getting to him. Or was it something different he smelled, the memory of incense? The thought brought an odd sense of nausea with it. He shouldn’t be here. He didn’t want to tell James what happened her. But James would ask.  
  
He heard the footsteps on the cold marble floor, before he saw the candlelight. He straightened up slightly, but stayed were he was, anticipation making him tense.  
  
James emerged from the door that led to the room preceding the chapel. He was all properly dressed in a pale brown jacket, even wearing the stupid cravat. The candlelight made his face look soft and added a warm glow to his otherwise pale skin. Michael’s gaze was quickly drawn to James’ lips that shone wetly. The sight made him smile, forgetting where he was for a moment.  
James closed the door behind him and Michael felt some of the tension, that had kept him on edge while waiting, drain away.  
  
James didn’t look his way but made to leave.  
  
“Have you found answers to your questions in there?”  
  
James gave a startled gasp and whirled around, He looked wide-eyed at him for a moment. Then relieve shone in his eyes as he recognised Michael sitting there in the dark and he relaxed visibly. The ease was only short lived though, as quickly a  frown creased his forehead. “So you are back.” James hand clenched and unclenched. “Your valet told me something about a bridge, something happening there.”  
  
“Yes, a bridge collapsed partly, so I went to check it. It was rather tedious, otherwise I might have asked you, if you wanted to join me in riding out.”  
  
James gaze narrowed. “Well, I would have liked to go riding in the morning, but for some reason your stablehands were unwilling to give me a horse.”  
  
“I told them not to.”  
  
“Why!” The three letters were pressed out sharply, and Michael watched fascinated as a storm brewed behind James’ piercing blue eyes.  
  
“Out of concern.” Michael answered calmly. A pity how those nicely curved lips were pressed together.  
  
“Concern for what? That I might just take your horse and leave. By Napoleons balls what do you think of me?”  
  
Michael stood up, mesmerised, and came over. “You must admit after the events of the past days, I couldn’t just take the chance of you leaving.”  
  
“I thought we cleared yesterday, that I was not afraid and not going to run.”  
  
“We cleared some things, yes.” Michael stopped in front of James. The suggestive tone made James shift slightly. “For one I know you are good on your word.” A smile played around Michael’s lips. He brushed his finger against James’ mouth. James’ eyes widened but he did not move back, neither did he part his lips though or show in any other way that he liked the touch. “So promise me, you will not just simply leave and I will tell them to provide you with a horse whenever you wish.” Reluctantly Michael let his hand sink again.  
  
James frowned, but then seemed to think about the offer. Michael waited patiently. He would have been suspicious, if James had just said yes. Finally James licked his lips. “Good. You have my word, I will not just leave, not without telling you before hand.”  
  
Michael nodded. “Shall we head back then, to where it is warmer.” He made to head for the door to the ballroom, but James stayed where he was. “No.”  
  
Michael stopped, thinking about leaving anyway, but then he turned. “Do you find the dark so appealing?”  
  
James gave a little huff and murmured something under his breath that sounded like “Apparently”, but it didn’t make much sense to Michael. “Michael, I... “ James looked away, he put the candelabra on one of the chest of drawers standing to one side, tugging absently at the white cloth covering it. As he spoke on he looked back seeking to capture Michael’s eyes again. “I told you I’m not afraid. I don’t think you want to hurt me though... though I am convinced you could. Seeing what you have done to the bandits. I still think it’s unnecessary but...” James held up a hand to stop Michael, who had gritted his teeth, from interrupting. “ Your lands, your rules and in the end they had to be dealt with. What I don’t understand is .. this.” James gestured vaguely in the direction of the chapel behind him. “You hinted at what happened. Now that I know that the demon you spoke of was... is you, I want - need to know why.”  
  
Michael had tensed, holding himself rigid. He had no idea if James would understand what had happened here. He didn’t feel guilty about it. And he was glad, it had put an end to his own suffering. James had told him he wasn’t afraid. Well he didn’t know all of it yet. ‘I will not be able to avoid telling him. He is obstinate, he will pry and pry till he knows what happened and till then... will he stay stubborn, just out of reach?’ Michael didn’t want to wait. He wanted to touch James, as leisurely as he had been able to before. Touch and kiss, have him in his bed and have his easy company, not that awkward tension that seemed to thicken in the air between them whenever they shared a room.   
  
“You...” James voice pulled him back from his agitated thoughts. “You want to trade again?”   
  
Michael hadn’t expected to hear James come up with that suggestion himself. He wanted to laugh, but instead only allowed himself a hint of a smile. It was like James was finally admitting what he wanted, still under pretence, but James was getting closer. Closer to Michael, to where he belonged. “I do not wish to speak about it, but...” Michael paused, almost coy, “you might make me.”  
  
“What do you want this time?”  
  
Michael shook his head. He stepped up to James, looking down at him, resisting the urge to run his hands through the brown hair, gently tugging at it, till James’ face was tilted at just the right angle to be kissed. “No. This time I want you to tell me what you do offer.”  
  
James looked flustered. “My hands?” It sounded only half sincere.  
  
“Your hands, really James, that’s all you can come up with?” He took hold of one of James’ hands though and pulled it up to his mouth, brushing the knuckles with his lips. “Not that I don’t appreciate your hands, but I thought you might come up with something more tempting.”  
  
James tugged his hand free, blue eyes stormy, despite the blush spreading on his face. “Excuse me, if you find me somewhat lacking in experience on how to tempt a demon.”  
  
Michael’s smile softened a fracture. “Du hast keine Ahnung wie gut du darin bist, James.”  
  
James gritted his teeth. “Stop speaking German when you know I don’t understand it.”  
  
Michael suddenly hooked his fingers into a fold of James cravat, making sure he couldn’t back away and bent down. His lips touched lightly against James’. “I just said you had no idea.”  
  
James frowned, but his lips were parting slightly. “That’s what I meant.”  
  
Michael kissed James, tasting the warm lips, gently licking over them. He could feel James’ breathing quicken, a hand being pressed against his chest, not attempting to push away though. “You want my mouth again?”  
  
“I already have that. We never agreed on a time limit, remember.”  
  
“You...” James pulled away, though Michael still had hold of his cravat, so all he managed to do was to twist his head to one side.   
  
“Yes. I could ask you to repeat what we did yesterday. Or tell you what to say.”  
  
“No!” This time there was more force in the hands, pushing against Michael’s chest, keeping him at bay. “I still want - have to know what happened here.”  
  
“Then make an offer. Quick, before I change my mind and just take what I already have.”  
  
“Myself!” James let out a shuddering breath. “I offer myself, for one night, in your bed...”  
  
Michael was surprised at how those simple words aroused him. And at the same time he suddenly felt an odd hollow sensation rise from his belly. The offer was made, now the game was over.  “All right.” But if James didn’t want to be close to him afterwards, just forced himself because he gave his word. He could almost taste the bitterness on his tongue. He stepped close, pushing James against the wall with his body, pressing up against him. The kiss was not gentle, for Michael was desperate to replace the taste fear.  
  
James didn’t struggle or protest, only as Michael left off his lips did he push at Michael’s shoulders, trying to give himself some space. “What?! Are you cheating? I thought we agreed, you own me an explanation.”  
  
“We did.” Michael smiled but it felt hollow. “But as I said, I don’t want to talk about it, so consider the kiss as a bit of prompting.” Still he felt reluctant to start telling James about the chapel and what had happened here. “So... what do you want to know about this place.”  
  
James frowned slightly. “This is not a one – question – game I agreed on.”  
  
“No it isn’t, you can ask as many questions about this place as you like.”  
  
“Why don’t you just tell me the whole story then?”  
  
Michael just shook his head.  
  
“Consider it part of my questions concerning the chapel.” James could be relentless.  
  
Michael moved to the wall opposite. He leant against it, trying to relax, but needing the firm wall behind himself as support - or to stop him from bolting, he wasn’t sure. He looked slightly downward as he spoke, not meeting James’ eyes. “You have seen what happens when I enter the chapel. The memories... I don’t want to recall them in one piece, if I can help it.”  
  
James sighed and Michael wondered if he was trying James’ patience. ‘Just like he does mine.’  
“You killed the priest?”  
  
Michael closed his eyes. “Yes.” There was a smile tugging at his lips. _Howling, tearing, ripping out the throat  and the pain was suddenly gone, bliss...  
_  
“What did he do, that he had to die?”  
  
“He hurt me.”  
  
“How?” James tone was insistent, drilling into him.  
  
“His devotion, his words, the incense he used, the holy water...”  
  
“You mean, you are a demon so everything... holy, hurts you?” James sounded as if he just grasped what being a demon  meant. “I didn’t realise, I’m sorry, I haven’t given much thought on faith... does that mean heaven and hell, are real?”  
  
Michael chuckled. “You ask that now? But I can’t give you a clear answer to that. It’s not like humans think it is, though. Not like you will go to hell for not believing ... or sleeping with a demon.” Michael took a deep breath. “It isn’t things holy that hurt me, not as such, it is connected to faith. The old priest, it didn’t feel as painful when he was praying. I tried to avoid the chapel nevertheless, but my parents, mainly my mother that is, thought I was being difficult. My father knew what had happened, he and Ferdinand, they found me. My father asked enough questions to piece together what had happened, for all that I was reluctant to tell.” It was easier to talk about something else, something not the chapel. “But he thought going to the services would help keep the demon in me at bay. I don’t think he understood completely... until... “ He swallowed. The other people present had not realised it was his doing. He didn’t touch the priest, he hadn’t needed to and his father had dragged him out of there quickly. He never asked him about it, but he knew, as did Ferdinand.  
  
“So the priest you killed, you did it because he was full of faith?” James asked softly.  
  
Michael looked past James to the door. “... full of zeal. The chapel was like a torture chamber to me. The older I got the worse it seemed to be. The smell of the incense alone made me nauseous, every damn prayer was like sitting in a hail of needles, tiny pinpricks all over my body.” The memory of the pain made him shiver and he stopped recounting more. "I hated him for the pain.“   
  
James shifted, for a moment it seemed like he wanted to come closer. “Do you regret killing him?”  
  
“No.”  
  
James turned away, bracing himself on the chest where the candelabra stood, gazing at the flickering candlelight.   
  
Michael pressed his lips together. The sight of James turning away made rage and pain burn in him. “No, I don’t feel regret. I sure do not wish I hadn’t done it. It was a relieve, tearing out his throat, so he no longer could speak. Killing him and with that defiling the chapel, turning it into something that no longer held any faith.” He spat out the words, watching as James’ shoulders tensed. He didn’t regret it, only felt sorry for what it did now and yet he couldn’t stop his words. He couldn’t lie about it, couldn’t say what James maybe wanted to hear.  
  
“The chapel is no longer in use, right. But it still hurts you to be in there, are you certain the pain is tied in to people’s faith?”  
  
Michael stared. He had thought James would leave now. “I’m sure. They never used the chapel again afterwards. It is only bad memories now that linger.”  
  
“Bad memories?” James echoed his words. Slowly he turned. Michael could see his face by the warm candlelight. He looked drawn, his mouth pressed together to a thin line. But he held out his hand, open palm up. Confused Michael’s gaze shifted from the hand to James’ face. Was that an invitation to come closer? He hesitated to make a step.  
  
“I want you to come into the chapel with me.” James’ words made him reel back. The wall behind him felt like it was pushing against him, hard, solid, not giving way but restraining him. His heart started hammering in his chest, his body breaking into cold sweat. He gave a strained half-laugh. “Why? You have already seen what happens once.”  
  
“Please.” James’ gaze stayed on him. He kept his hand outstretched, reaching toward him.  
  
A chaos of thoughts flooded Michael’s mind. Was he trying to hurt him? Punish him for what he had done, to someone James didn’t even know? Throw him in there and close the doors? Turn him helpless... hurt him, kill him? He couldn’t do that. _Would you kill him?_ He wouldn’t, so James could.   
  
“Please, trust me with this.” James’ voice was soft and pleading.  
  
Before thinking too clearly about it, Michael found he had moved. He stood there, staring down at James’ hand, gritting his teeth. He put his hand in James’. James’ fingers closed around him and he had to fight the urge to pull back.  
  
As James opened the door to the cold marble hall that lay before the chapel, Michael tried to breath calmly. ‘It’s like any other room now. Old and musty. The last thing that happened in there is blood being spilled. Remember that. Think of how the pain ended. Just that.’  
  
The double doors to the chapel opened with a creak. Cold air brushed his face. His hand gripped James' tightly, his knuckles whitening. There was a tug, he was pulled further into the room. Bells chimed softly, just at the edge of his hearing, but he flinched. His gaze flitted to the altar. He could see the smoke rising from there. The smoke from the incense burnt down his throat. He choked. A thousand needles, piercing his skin, burning droplets of holy water splattering on his hands.   
  
There was a keening howl only he could hear. _Pain, pain, pain..._ it sang. He stumbled, suddenly lightheaded, ...hard to breath, ...falling.  
  
Strong arms wrapped around him, pushed him back. “It’s all right. It’s all right. I’m sorry. Sorry... “  
  
He didn’t struggle, he felt the room growing distant, he heard doors being thrown back forcefully. He tried to brace himself on a doorframe. Dizzy between feeling detached from himself and being pulled back.   
  
“Sit down...” Slowly he sank to the ground, the arms still steadying him. He closed his eyes, burying his head at a warm shoulder. The familiar smell of James’ engulfed him. Slowly he relaxed. He felt James rub soothingly over his back and he reached up to wrap his arms around the other man, pulling him close.  
  
“I’m sorry. I... I needed to understand the pain you must have been in when you killed.”  
  
“You didn’t know from the first time?” Michael couldn’t muster any anger though, not when James was holding him like that.  
  
“I didn’t realise what I was seeing the first time. Forgive me for making you go through that again.”  
  
Michael chuckled half-heartedly. “Just don’t make me go in there again.” He felt like he would forgive James a great deal more. “You are demon yourself, making me cause myself pain.”  
  
James’ hands at his back stilled and he was drawing back. Michael wanted to retain him, then reluctantly let his arms sink. But James kept in contact, resting his forehead against Michael’s. “I’m trying to understand and it only seems like that pain is part of you. I don’t know much of demon-lore but one would think that a dark creature like a demon would feed of others pain, not having to cause himself pain to ... use his powers to heal.”  
  
“So you deem me unfit for a demon?”  
  
James shook his head. “I’m just wondering, if you didn’t make the demon human.”  
  
“What is that supposed to mean?”  
  
“I don’t know. That I’m not sure it really matters.” James’ mouth was on his, pressing hot and warm against him. It took Michael a moment to catch up, letting James plunder his mouth, enjoying the vehemence he showed. He only winced back slightly as Michael sucked at his lower lip, gracing it with his teeth. “Careful, my lips still feel tender from the abuse they suffered from you.”  
  
“Abuse?!” Michael reached up and gently caressed James’ mouth with his thumb. James closed his eyes, his lips curling up in a sensual smile. “I cannot guarantee I can let off your lips when you smile like that.”  
  
James opened his eyes again. He gave Michael’s thumb a quick sultry lick. “Then at least we should take this somewhere more comfortable.... you _do_ have a debt to collect.”  
  
+++  
  
James lay on his belly, face buried in the pillow, feeling exhausted – in a good way - and content. Michael’s fingers were caressing his back, making him feel even more relaxed. He sighed as the touch wandered up to his neck. He felt Michael move closer, a warm body against his back and the fingers were replaced by his lips, brushing along his neck, then leaving a trail of little kisses.  
  
One hand caressed along his arm and finally closed around his hand. “Will you stop pretending you don’t want this? For I don’t think I will believe you any more.”  
  
James sighed. “Are there more dark secrets I need to know about you?”  
  
“I’m a demon, I have killed, I find pleasure in killing... No secrets that are worse.”  
  
James shivered slightly at the words, but the truth was: ‘I guess I enjoy being doomed.’ Michael neither scared nor repulsed him with what he had done. Reasonable or not, James’ found himself understanding why he did it. Darkness and pain and yet he felt – safe.  
A slight smile played on James lips. “I wasn’t fooling you anyway, was I. I was only trying to fool myself.”  
  
‘Still fooling myself.’ He added, though only in his thoughts. ‘I should think of my duties. I have to leave, I can’t just stay here as long as I want. A few more weeks maybe.’  
  
Michael started sucking and biting at the tender skin of his neck. His hand moved from James arm down along his body, pulling him up so he was lying on his side, granting Michael excess to more of his body to touch. James found he wasn’t that exhausted after all.  
  
‘Just not yet. Duties can wait ... till spring.’  
###  
Tbc  
  
Next chapter: the world and politics will catch up with them

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Michael didn’t give James the full translation of what he said when he was kissing him:  
> “Du hast keine Ahnung wie gut du darin bist, James.” = You have no idea of how good you are at it, James.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A duel. About the (in)-proper use of a cravat. Letters, politics and a confession of sorts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit late again, hope the length makes up for the wait.
> 
> Also I wanted to say thanks to Ember here at AO3 who has started the tedious task editing my previous chapters. ^_^ Hopefully I can put up her edits for the first chapters this week.
> 
> Warnings: Bugger the events during the Napoleonic wars. A hell to keep track of who was on which side and when. Though some people and events mentioned are history, I take great liberties for the sake of telling my story. So this is far from a history lesson.

James woke up suddenly. His heart was hammering in his chest. Something had woken him, something he had heard. For a moment he just lay there on his side, staring into the dark room, waiting for his eyes to adjust so he could make out a little bit, all the while straining his hearing. Nothing. Nothing out of the ordinary. He heard Michael’s steady breathing beside him, indicating he was still asleep. Had the noise only been a dream?  
  
He wanted to move but it made him realise how numb his arms were. They must have fallen asleep. Careful he tried to move one, but found he couldn’t. A little dumbfounded he twisted his arm, thinking maybe Michael had somehow fallen asleep on it – which would explain the lack of feeling too – but then the memories of last night came back and with it the realisation that his wrists were – still – tied. With his cravat at that. James stifled a groan and wriggled into a sitting position without any support from his hands or arms, leaning against the beds headboard. Carefully he moved his arms to rest on his lap. The odd numbness started to give way to a prickling feeling that moved up his arms. James gritted his teeth. Why hadn’t Michael untied him... afterwards? James remembered thinking about asking Michael to finally untie him but he had drifted off to sleep before he could utter the words.  
He’d never thought he would find having his hands tied and his ability to move and touch limited thus, so erotic. Not that he hadn’t enjoyed it, he thought, not without feeling heat creep up in his face. Still, it was a most improper use of a cravat. Even if, he had to admit, he himself had started it all. Well not all, basically it was Michael’s fault.   
  
James started undoing the knot with the help of his teeth.   
  
It had started innocently enough with a duel.  
  
+++   
  
Though Michael was rather fond of suddenly touching his neck or bending close to kiss him – or bite the sensitive skin, James still liked to wear his cravats. He was not in the habit of tearing them off once he came into the house after riding or coming back from a walk, unlike Michael. He always got rid of his cravat right after getting out of his coat and insisted on to doing the same to James.   
Sometimes James would let him – sometimes he resisted.  
  
It all had resulted in Michael teasing him for being a fop.   
  
“I should call you out for a duel for such an insult.” James had remarked offhandedly. And if he were at court in London and Michael any noble he would. Though anyone there seemed to know better than to cross a Scottish Earl. The worst insult he had heard to his face there had been stubborn and pigheaded by his friends. Something he had to admit as the truth. But fop...?  
  
“Enlighten me, how many insults have I suffered from your pretty mouth since you came here? You called me a liar, ....  
  
“I also apologised.” James had to concede that his somewhat bungled entrance had not helped in shaping Michael’s impression of him. He smirked. Perhaps he could work that to his advantage. “So what about it.”  
  
Michael raised an eyebrow, looking rather sceptical. “What? You want to duel me?”  
  
“I don’t want to shoot at you,” James started.  
  
“I’m glad to hear that.”  
  
“Just against you.” James continued, ignoring being interrupted.  
  
Michael seemed to consider that for a moment, then a slow smile spread on his lips. “All right. For what?”  
  
“You mean, there should be a price of sorts?”  
  
“Don’t you think so? Since it’s not for the loss of ones life to keep the thrill of a real duel, there should be some price involved. Not money, but something more personal.”  
  
“Not enough to restore ones honour is it now?” But James observed Michael’s smile. He knew that all too well already.  
  
“Afraid of loosing?” Michael arched an eyebrow. He seemed very self-assured, just like James had hoped.  
  
“Hardly likely, but, “ James moved closer, pressing his body against Michael’s “you already have me in your bed every night.” He tugged two fingers into the top of Michael’s shirt pulling him down slightly. With that came an idea. “Hm, how about... if I win, you will wear a cravat whenever I want. I actually do find it suits you very much. Should you win, “ he made sure his tone of voice indicated that he didn’t think that very likely, all arrogant fop.   
  
“When I win, you will hand me over your cravats, and I will only give them to you when I see fit.” Michael concluded.  
  
James smiled. “Done.” He did not intend to loose.   
  
An hour later found them both outside in the garden. The targets were some simple logs of wood placed on the stone-balustrade in the garden. Michael had no real duelling-pistols but they would use two regular ones. So both of them would fire with both pistols five times, to make up for any irregularities in the pistols design.  
  
Ferdinand was with them. He would reload the pistols on a little table he had brought outside for that and he was to be their referee – should need be. Although James had pointed out that he probably wasn’t all that impartial. To which Michael had countered that he was one of the few people not scared to tell him their opinion.  
  
Michael insisted James decide the distance they shoot from, James insisted Michael shoot first.  
  
James was curious at Michael’s skills, yet relaxed. Except for hunting he was certain Michael didn’t get much practice at shooting at all. He seemed to rely on his other powers much more when dealing with problems that might normally would have called for the use of a pistol. So not much practice with firing pistols really. What he counted as Michael’s advantage though, was his uncanny eyesight. He did see better in the dark, probably that made for a general better eyesight. But James knew what he himself was capable of.  
  
He watched Michael take his position. He didn’t hurry in aiming, rather taking his time, making sure his breathing was even. A shower of sparks erupted from the pistol as the first shot was fired. James couldn’t tell for sure, not without inspecting the log, but he thought Michael had missed. From Michael’s slight frown he guessed the man thought so too.  
  
Michael handed the pistol over to Ferdinand, who started reloading, while Michael took the second. He weighed it carefully in his hand, before repeating the exercise. Aiming, steady breaths, fire. This time the log rocked slightly, as the bullet hit it. Michael’s lips only twitched with the hint of a pleased smile. But he missed the third shot again and frowned at the pistol for that. The fourth and fifth attempt were straight hits. Together they went to inspect and confirm the log.   
  
“Three out of five.” Michael leant closer and kissed him, one hand already tugging at James’ cravat. James answered the kiss, enjoying the warm mouth against his, but took hold of Michael’s hand, stopping him. “You haven’t won yet.”   
  
Michael straightened, looking amused. “You think you’ll beat me?”  
  
“I will aim to do so.” James pulled Michael closer by his cravat. “See, it would be rather handy if you lost.” He made as if to dive in for another kiss, but then only licked over Michael’s lips teasingly before letting him go. Michael growled. Grinning James put up a new log on the balustrade and walked back to where Ferdinand had finished loading the pistols, back conveniently turned towards them.  
  
James took his time inspecting and weighing the two pistols before taking his first shot. He didn’t miss. He heard Michael behind him giving a little huff at that, but refused to look and get distracted. The second shot hit the log dead-centre, as did the third. Now he allowed himself a small smile. He got in position for the forth try. Two more shots, he only needed one more hit to beat Michael... though he aimed to make it five out of five. He had the target clear in sight, his finger pulled the trigger without wavering, as suddenly someone grabbed him from behind. James gasped, the shot went wild and James stumbled back unbalanced. He fell, not landing in the snow but on Michael, who so unfairly had attacked him from behind. Michael was laughing, still having his arms wrapped around James. “So the forth is a miss.”  
  
“What the hell! You _made_ me miss that last one!”  
  
“No rules that I’m not allowed to distract you.”  
  
James pushed himself up quickly, before Michael could react, turned round and straddled the taller man. He still kept the pistol in his hand. “Be glad that this is no longer loaded.”  
  
Michael showed a wolfish grin. “You wouldn’t shoot me.” One of his hands had found a way under James coat, rubbing along his thigh, slowly inching higher. James shifted and allowed himself to close his eyes for a moment. A slow smile spread on his lips. “You are right.” He placed the pistol on Michael’s chest, then reached up and undid the cravat. Michael’s eyes focused on James’ bare throat. “Do you forfeit the bet? This is so much more pleasant after all.” Michael drew back his hand from James’ thigh and moved both hands over the coat up to James’ neck, trying to tug him closer by the collar of his coat. James smiled, leaning slightly toward Michael, then quickly wrapped the cravat, he had in his hands, around Michael’s wrists, tightening the fabric before the man realised what he was doing. He tied it with a tight knot. Before Michael could react he got up. He just caught a glimpse of Ferdinand’s amused smile before the valet managed to compose his face to one of indifference.   
  
“James... what...?” Michael looked after him.  
  
Quickly James took the final loaded pistol Ferdinand handed him and got into position. He ignored Michael, who was struggling to his feet without the use of his hands. He ignored Ferdinand coming to his masters aid, saving the pistol from dropping into the snow and brushing snow from Michael’s coat instead of untying him.   
  
James didn’t loose time. He took a calming breath, aimed and shot.  
  
He stalked over to the balustrade and brought the log with him, showing it to Michael. Four bullets were clearly imbedded in the wood. “Four out of five, Michael. And it would have been five out of five. But it doesn’t matter, because either way, I win!” He let the wood drop to the ground. He still felt angry about Michael trying to cheat. Not because of the cravat. But because he had wanted to prove a point. Because Michael seemed neither convinced of his skills as a diplomat nor think him capable of being any help against bandits. Because he felt all he was in the man’s eyes was a foolish fop who had got lost in the woods. Someone only good enough as... a catamite. The thought had been gnawing at the back of his mind, now he got dragged out into the open. It left a nasty taste behind.  
  
Michael seemed to realise something was not right. Neither did he protest nor make an attempt to jest. “I hadn’t thought you would be that good a shot.” If there was admiration in his voice James didn’t hear it.  
  
“No, you hadn’t.” James voice was almost a growl.  
  
Michael frowned slightly. “I apologise.”  
  
‘What for?’ James thought of asking. But it didn’t really matter. He grabbed Michael by the tied wrists and steered him round. Then tugged, to make Michael follow him back to the building.   
  
“What do you plan on doing?”  
  
“Collecting my prize”  
  
Michael smiled amused. “As I recall...”  
  
“I get you wearing a cravat whenever I see fit. I want you wearing a cravat in bed – now. We didn’t say I wasn’t to create the circumstances I want when I want.”  
  
Michael gave a little breathless chuckle but followed quite willingly.   
  
One of the servants was just cleaning up in the salon, as James led Michael through to the bedroom. She looked up, started to bob a little curtsy and suddenly stopped and stared. James ignored her. He pushed the bedroom door open and manoeuvred Michael inside, then closed it again. He couldn’t help noticing the stifled giggling coming from the salon though.   
  
He took off his coat and threw it over one of the chairs, adding his waistcoat, west then he took off his boots before turning back to Michael who stood there looking a little awkward in his coat in the middle of his bedroom. “Not that I don’t appreciate watching you undress, but it makes me feel like I am wearing way to many clothes.” He held up his tied hands.  
  
James frowned. He would have loved to keep Michael tied up just a little longer, but he couldn’t see a way of getting the other man out of his clothes without untying him first. James licked his lips staring at Michael’s tied hands.  
  
“Are you still angry at me?”   
  
James took a moment before he replied. “Maybe.” The short clipped answer made him sound irate. He closed his eyes, shaking his head, trying to get a clear head again.    
  
“Then come closer and let me apologise.” Michael crooned softly.   
  
James only realised he had moved as Michael’s hands, still tied, brushed against his belly, going for his trousers, trying to undo the buttons. James caught him by the shoulders as he went down on his knees. “Wait.” He pulled him up and undid the cravat that tied his hands. Michael looked a little puzzled, but then grinned.  
  
“I can always tie you up again.” James warned.  
  
“You think you will catch me like that twice?” Michael snatched the cravat out of James’ hands and threw it aside. It landed discarded on the bed.  
  
James looked at him, gaze unwavering. “As easily as I can beat you at shooting.”   
  
“I wont make the mistake of underestimating your skills with a pistol again.“ Michael dropped his coat to the ground. “Or how quick you can tie me up. Makes me wonder if you have had practice in that before too.” Michael reached up to undo his cravat. James, ignoring the last words, caught Michael’s hands, before he could touch the cravat. “Oh no, you wont!” He pulled the hands back down, only letting go as he felt Michael relax. He reached up and used the cravat to tug Michael down for a kiss. It started slow, just a tentative tasting of lips and tongues but it felt like neither could get enough. As they finally broke apart, James’ felt slightly dizzy. Any remaining anger forgotten for the moment. “Now nothing wrong with taking off the rest of your clothes though.” He tugged at the buttons of Michael’s west and almost got them all undone, before Michael had taken off his jacket. Both west and jacket ended on top of Michael’s coat on the ground.  
  
“I think I can get used to wearing that stupid cloth around my neck, as long as you don’t wear it.”   
  
James felt his knees go weak, as Michael spread kisses on his neck and throat. Michael pulled him back with him as he sat down on the bed and lay back. James’ moved in for another kiss, wriggling his hips a little, as Michael pulled the shirt out of his trousers. “Glad now, that you did untie me?”  
  
James bit his already swollen lips, trying to stop himself from grinning. “Let’s see. Show me first what you can do with your hands what you couldn’t have done with your mouth too.”  
  
Michael gave a throaty chuckle. “I’ll show you how to best combine the two.”  
  
+++   
  
James finally had the knot open. He rubbed his wrists and carefully stretched his arms, discarding the last of the numbness coursing through them. His fingers still prickled almost painfully and it took some time longer for that feeling to dissipate. He picked up the cravat, pulling the soft fabric through his hands, staring absently at it. Then his gaze shifted.  He looked down at Michael noting startled that Michael still had his cravat around his neck. Eventually a slight smile tugged at the corners of James’ mouth.  
  
+++  
  
The next day it became apparent what had woken James’ in the middle of the night. The snow was thawing and a big amount had slipped from the roof right in front of Michael’s bedroom windows. With the amount of snow outside slowly turning to water, transforming everything into mud and forming puddles in the slightest of hollows, they stayed inside for the day. Making the most exciting thing to happen, the arrival of one of the servants in the early afternoon. He had come riding in on a mud-splattered horse. The man had been sent to Baden  with a sledge but on his return was surpirsed by the change of weather and finally had to leave the sledge behind for lack of snow. Some men had to ride out with horses and a cart to try and get the sledge as well as all the goods the man had gone to buy back to the estate. The thing the servant had managed to bring back from his trip without the help of the sleigh though, were letters. Three of them for James.  
  
Bewildered looked James at the letters in his hands. How had anyone know how to reach him?   
  
He looked over from the comfortable armchair he sprawled, to where Michael sat at his desk, shuffling through some letters of his own, the letter opener dangling between his fingers. He looked up as he noticed James stare.   
  
James waved the still unopened letters at him. “How come even the King knows where I am, when I hadn’t even heard of your place before I came here.”  
  
Michael smirked. “Not so much backwater country after all. Though the letters were sent to Baden. So my servant just picked them up.” He got up and handed the letter-opener to James, though he himself still had some unopened letters to attend to.   
  
James looked through the three letters he had received once more and then started with the one from Kurfürst Karl Friedrich. Michael leant over the back of the armchair.  
  
“You know the letter IS addressed to me as my function as diplomat. It could be considered secret.”  
  
“I just thought you might need some help with reading it.”  
  
“It is in French you know, a language I’m perfectly able to read and understand.”  
  
Michael huffed. “One might think that unwise, in times as these. What if the letters were intercepted?”  
  
“I’m rather sure that the French have people quite able at deciphering German as well.  
  
“English then. I have heard the language is painful to French ears.”  
  
James huffed. “If only. All we would have to do is yell at them then, to get rid of Napoleon and his breed.” He started reading, surprised to find the letter opening with wishes for his recovering health. He turned his head to look at Michael. “How come he thinks I was injured?”  
  
Michael chuckled, no sign of guilt or remorse on his face. “As I sent a servant to collect your luggage I sent a letter along explaining you had got lost on your way to Baden, had injured yourself and would be staying as my guest till your full recovery.”  
  
James scowled. “You might have had the decency to leave out the bit of me getting lost.”  
  
“But it’s the truth.”  
  
“Do tell. You did not seem awfully concerned with the truth when spreading the news I was injured.”  
  
Michael’s fingers were playing with his hair, stroking and caressing his scalp. Unconsciously James felt himself relax under the touch. Even more so as Michael’s voice caressed against his ear. “What would you have me rather say. That I wanted to keep you for myself and seduce you to my bed.”  
  
James closed his eyes for a moment. “So that was your plan all along.”  
  
Michael chuckled. “Couldn’t you tell.” His hand slipped down to James’ throat, loosening the knot of the cravat there. James didn’t protest. “Subtlety is not your forte.”  
  
“Say’s my undiplomatic English Diplomat.”  
  
James sighed resigned. “Who has urgent diplomatic business to attend to.” He gently pulled Michael’s hand away from the cravat, but made no attempt to get the loosened neck-cloth in order again. Reluctantly Michael drew back and moved over to his desk. James pulled his attention back to the letter, not noting the strange closed look Michael gave him.   
  
Some more niceties were captured in ink on paper before the letter wound down to the real business. Slowly a frown creased James forehead. As he finished he let his hand sink to his lap, staring off into space while his mind whirled around the words he had just read. Finally he took another look at the letter, reading it once more. Suddenly he stood up. Lips pursed he held the letter out for Michael.  
  
Michael just took it, though his gaze lingered on James face for a moment, before he started reading.  
James paced up and down the room, only stopping as Michael put the letter down on his desk. Tense he looked at him. “What do you think?”  
  
“I hear someone like Reitzenstein whispering through those words. He was one of those most pro-Napoleon at the Kurfürst’s court. Seems like the man is recovering from typhus after all. The letter doesn’t spell it out directly, but it sounds like he starts leaning more in favour for the French. Especially with that remark...” Michael picked up the letter, his eyes scanning the page till he found what he was looking for. “hearing rumours of the British Crown seeking a most unfortunate alliance to the east... What alliance does he have in mind, I wonder?”  
  
James turned away. He could hardly just blabber secrets – even to... Especially not!  
  
“Let me guess, Austria? Or Russia? None of the other countries would worry Kurfürst Karl Friedrich that much to mention it and to drive him into Napoleon’s arms.”  
  
James didn’t answer, though he would have loved to discuss this with someone... with Michael.  
  
“Then again, Austria’s Emperor is known for his caution, he wouldn’t do anything to anger Napoleon before he doesn’t know he has more than the British Island for an alley. He might agree on an action if Russia and Britain already formed an alliance, and Napoleon has the German States firm in his grasp. Plus Russia is threatened most by Napoleons advances in the Middle East. So I say it’s Russia.”  
  
He didn’t deny nor confirm Michael’s guess.“ For someone trying to keep his lands out of this conflict you are very apt at analysing it.”   
  
“Just because I don’t want to get involved doesn’t mean I can stay ignorant of what is going on in the world. So what about your other letters? Instructions? Though your government would be mad as your King is supposed  to be, when they send it here.”  
  
“Don’t insult my King.” James growled and grabbed the other two letters he had dropped on the armchair as he had got up. “Only his subjects are allowed to do that.”  
  
Michael chuckled.  
  
James inspected the letters before opening them. The seal seemed intact, no indication anyone had opened them. He gave a sigh of relieve, though he had to agree with Michael, they would be mad if they sent him any vital information or instructions that way. More mad than the King actually.  
  
He slit the letters open and read them. No, there was no mention of the negotiations with Russia or any other plans to ally with any other countries, just some concerns were voiced that the German States might be less firm in their decisions concerning Napoleon and that he was asked to try and stress the importance...  
  
“Verdammt!” The word was accompanied by the crash of a chair landing on the ground.  
  
James look up. Michael stood at his desk, the unfortunate chair he had been siting had toppled over. He held one of his letters in his hand, a look of rage on his face, as he gritted his teeth.  
  
“What’s wrong?” James came over, alarmed. His gaze dropped to the letter that had caused the violent reaction, but found he couldn’t read it. James vowed he would learn German and if it would result in blisters on his tongue.  
  
Michael fought for words. “This... ein Affront! How dare that ... Maionette eines Kaisers... er hat kein verdammtes Recht.”  
  
“Michael, please.” James put a hand on Michael’s arm, trying to calm him down. “You don’t make much sense to me.”  
  
James found himself suddenly being pulled closer, Michael buried his face at his neck, inhaling deeply. James felt that Michael’s hand was shaking with ill contained rage that was only slowly subsiding. Gently he rubbed over Michael’s arm, half wondering at the soothing effect he seemed to have on the other man. Only after he felt Michael relax he pulled back a little. “All right. From the beginning. Kaiser... which one?”  
  
Michael took another deep breath. “Emperor Franz of Austria. My business-associate wrote to tell me that in the name of the Emperor of Austria, they started confiscating ships in the harbours of the Austrian Empire. My ships are still safe so far, but it seems only a matter of time. Maybe I should consider an alliance with France, hoping they will drive the Austrians out of the Italian States and...” He suddenly stopped, observing James’ face. “I’m only joking.”  
  
“That’s really not something to joke about.” James realised for one dreadful moment that he thought, what if... what if Michael choose France as the Kurfürst of Baden seemed to intend to do. What if all the German States choose to seek their fortune in the arms of France. Would Michael really stay neutral – could he?  
  
He had known he would leave but in the last days he had started to entertain the idea that he might come back. Just to visit.  
  
“You look like you thought I was sleeping with the devil.”  
  
“Considering France... well it is the devil as long as Napoleon stays its head.”  
  
Michael smiled. “Really now? You should leave a demon to judge a devil. But I can assure you, I want nothing neither from the devil nor from Napoleon. I have everything I want here.” He leant closer and covered James’ mouth with a kiss. There was a fluttering feeling spreading from James’ belly that had more to do with Michael’s words than the kiss. Still he,... “I... I have to leave. I have to go to Baden and see what can be salvaged from this. Or at least get any information on what Napoleon is offering to Kurfürst Karl Friedrich .”  
  
Michael went utterly still, he had his eyes closed, head turned away, almost as if he wanted to shut out what James had said.  
  
Perhaps he shouldn’t have said it. Not now, not like this, but the thought was worrying at his mind. “Not right away, in a week, maybe, when all the snow has thawed completely...”  
  
Finally Michael looked at him, his grey eyes were dark but otherwise he seemed calm. James had expected some loud protest, the utter calm confused him, even made him feel a little hurt.   
  
“You can’t just come here, demand to know everything about me and then just leave.” Michael spoke softly.  
  
“It’s not like I planned any of that.” He licked his lips. “It must have been clear to you, that as a diplomat I have to...” He stopped as he heard Michael’s muttered “not a good one at that”. James gritted his teeth and pressed his lips together. He wanted to pull away but Michael held on to him. “James... I’m sorry. Me saying that... has been bothering you all along?”  
  
“I know I’m not the most level-headed and tend to be pigheaded and I don’t understand your cursed language, and I didn’t choose to come here. But I also know politics, what all the Lords want to get their greedy hands on most and I damn well will not slink off back to Britain or go into hiding just because one megalomaniacal soldier has decided that being Emperor of one country isn’t enough but he has to aim for world domination.” Only as James stopped, breathing heavily, did he notice that he had been yelling. Still Michael looked at him like... James was hard pressed to identify the expression that showed on Michael’s face.   
  
“I am glad you are all but level-headed because I very much like your stubbornness.” Michael’s lips brushed against his. “And the way you don’t run, not from what you don’t know,” A tantalising soft kiss was placed at the corner of his mouth. “nor from murdering demons.” Michael’s tongue traced James’ jaw, making him whimper softly. “I like how demanding you can be.” The tongue traced the lobe of his ear, making James’ knees go weak. “How you pry when you want to know something until you know.” Michael pulled the cravat and the collar of James’ shirt down, exposing his neck to nuzzle at the skin there. “I like your boldness... in all things.” James tilted his head to one side offering more of his neck to the searing hot mouth. His hands were pulling at Michael’s shirt, freeing it from his trousers so he could touch the skin underneath, running his hands over the muscled stomach, trying to distract himself from the mad fluttering of his heart and the whirling thoughts and emotions coursing through him. What was Michael saying. It almost sounded like... James’ shied away from the thought.  
  
He had to leave...  
  
in a week!

  
###

tbc


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sun had just set. Michael stood at the window of the library, looking outside without seeing how the colour slowly drained from the bright blue sky. A soft dark hue started to spread along the horizon, slowly engulfing the sky, turning day to night. 
> 
> He still stood unmoving. All he could think of was that this morning James had still been in his arms.  
> Now he was gone.  
> And he probably would never see him again.  
> ###  
> Michael’s POV only

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story has fanart! *squeal* Done by the lovely Ohteepeeh:  
> http://ohteepeeh.tumblr.com/post/19145071385/hed-never-thought-he-would-find-having-his-hands  
> Ferdinand in this chapter is for you, my dear! ^_~ Hope you like.
> 
> Thanks to Ember Chapter 1 is now up in a betad version. Hopefully I’ll manage to put more of her edits up this week. 
> 
> And to all readers! Love you all! You really make me incredible happy with all the likes, reblogs, kudos and comments!
> 
> Notes on language: I’ve written the conversation between Michael and Ferdinand in English, though something important gets lost through this. The way Ferdinand addresses Michael. It’s not only that he is dropping the formal address ‘your Lordship’/’Euer Durchlaucht’ but basically what Ferdinand does is he switches from ‘Your Lordship’ to a first name basis.
> 
> Warning: angsty chapter, but we are far from the end of the story!  
> This Chapter is not yet betad. German Native speaker here with a tendency for stupid mistakes in the English language.

The sun had just set. Michael stood at the window of the library, looking outside without seeing how the colour slowly drained from the bright blue sky. A soft dark hue started to spread along the horizon, slowly engulfing the sky, turning day to night.  
  
He still stood unmoving. All he could think of was that this morning James had still been in his arms.  
Now he was gone.  
And he probably would never see him again.  
  
+++  
  
Michael got up from eating breakfast, putting the napkin beside his plate. “Seems like it will be a nice spring-day today. Want to go out riding?”  
  
James gave him a strange look, then turned away to look out the window of the dinning room. “It looks...” He stopped and hung his head for a moment. Before Michael could wonder what was wrong all of a sudden, James straightened up. He slowly turned towards Michael, looking him in the eyes. “I’m leaving for Baden today. I have everything I need packed already, but I would be grateful if you can send someone to bring my luggage and clothes. Also...” he took a deep breath. “Though my horse is healed up, and it has got some exercise these last days, I wanted to ask, if I could borrow one of yours. It seems more reliable. Also your man could bring my horse with my luggage and take yours back again. Should I no longer be in Baden, I would get another horse, and make sure yours is stabled until you send someone to fetch it.  
  
Michael almost felt like when he cut himself to give the demon access to his powers. His surroundings grew distant. Everything felt hollow and his own voice seemed to come from far away. “You have it all perfectly planned out already.” His voice sounded flat, void of emotions.  
  
“I have given it some thought, yes. Maybe I should have said something sooner, but...”  
  
He thought – had hoped – that he had done enough to persuade James to stay. What else could he do? What more? “But you didn’t want me to try and stop you? I still could.”  
  
“No, that’s not.” James huffed. “Please... You knew I had to leave. It’s not...” James bit his lip. “I would like to stay longer, but it just isn’t possible.”  
  
“I won’t let you leave!” Michael’s voice was harsh and hard though he knew he couldn’t follow on his threat. He couldn’t force James.  
  
“Don’t!” James balled his hands to fists, then forcibly tried to relax and continued more gently. “Don’t do this. I have an assignment as a diplomat. I am an Earl, I have duties to my King and country.”  
  
“Just stay then...” Michael knew he was sounding desperate now. He didn’t care.  
  
James shook his head. “I can’t! Don’t you understand? What - if I stayed here, what would that make me? I can’t just abandon my responsibilities. I can’t just become your kept boy.”  
  
The truth didn’t make it any easier. Michael had never thought this would end like this. As he went to seduce James he had though he would have some fun, end up getting bored and send him on. He had not that he would fall for him. That he would be the one begging him to stay. His throat felt tight, he couldn’t speak. He tried to dredge up some anger. It would be easier if he could lash out and - hurt James? He didn’t want that. He closed his eyes. If he could be angry, he would hurt less. He sought for something to be mad about. James should have told him before that he wanted to leave. When he planned to leave. That it was to be so soon. Not present him with the facts right before leaving.  
  
James shifted, searching Michael’s silent face. “I’ll try and come back.”  
  
In times like these, highly unlikely that it would be possible. If Napoleon got a firm grip on the German States it would no longer be safe for an English Diplomat here. He would return to England, maybe be sent to another country, but come back? A promise he couldn’t keep, and they both knew that.  
  
James took a step toward him. “Look I don’t want this to end like that. With you ... hating me. I hoped we could part with this, between us, staying...”  
  
“What? Sweet memories of your... German adventure.” Michael spat out the words. He didn’t want to hurt James, still the first thing he said to him was full of loathing. He couldn’t just accept James leaving.  
  
James recoiled, anger twisting his features. “Don’t forget YOU started that... “ But then he shook his head. “This is what I wanted to avoid. Perhaps I should have just left.”  
  
“Perhaps...” But would he have felt better, or worse to just have found James gone? He started to feel glad he hadn’t known of James plans the night before. Their last night together.  
  
James turned away. The sight of his back was hitting home. All that he would be seeing now, him turning away, him leaving.  
  
Michael moved quickly, taking hold of James shoulder, pulling him round. But then he stopped. The only thing he could think of saying was: ‘don’t leave!’ But that was futile. “I – You can have the horse and I’ll send someone with your luggage.”  
  
James reached up and buried his hands at his neck, pulling him down. “Thank you.” James pressed his lips against Michael’s. The kiss was slow, sweet and desperate. Michael was drinking in the taste of James, trying to make it last.  
  
+++  
  
James departing felt to Michael as if  he was an onlooker and didn’t have any part of it. He ordered a horse to be saddled, food to be packed. He gave James the necessary maps, showing him how to get to Baden.  
  
Even when he touched James’ hand braced on the table he had spread the map on, it felt surreal.  
  
Only as James got onto the horse and Michael stood there, the fresh spring-air filling his lungs, the shrill chirping of the birds in his ears, the sun shining brightly and driving water into his eyes, did the feeling of reality return.  
  
“Thank you.” James licked his lips as he looked down at him. “I’m really – thank you.”  
  
 _Don’t leave._  
  
“Have a safe journey.”  
  
A slight smile showed on James’ face. “You’ve made sure of that. I’ll try and stay in contact from Baden. I don’t know how long I’ll be there and – I might have to leave but I – I’ll know where to find you.”  
  
 _Stay._  
  
Michael only nodded.  
  
James looked a little uncertain. He swallowed. “Good bye!”  
  
“Good bye!”  
  
 _Stay with me._  
  
James seemed to waver for a moment, but then he urged the horse around and headed for the gates. He was quick to send the horse into a canter and then a full gallop, quickly disappearing from view. Michael stayed on the porch, looking into the distance.  
  
+++  
  
Ferdinand entered the library to light some candles. Michael blinked, realising only now that it had grown dark already.  
  
“Your Lordship, dinner is ready.”  
  
Michael merely nodded.  
  
Ferdinand looked worried at him. “You haven’t eaten anything for lunch, you really should eat.”  
  
Michael gritted his teeth. “Don’t tell me what to do!”  
  
“I’m sorry your Lordship, please forgive an old servant for worrying.” The words weren’t without effect - as intended.  
  
Michael closed his eyes and sighed. “Of course you do. But there is nothing to worry about. I’ll eat, just... in an hour.”  
  
“Yes your Lordship. Anything else you need?”  
  
 _...James...._  
  
“No.” Michael turned away from the window and went into his study. Only as he moved did he become dimly aware of his body, muscles protesting from standing still for so long. But it was just a moments distraction from thinking of... James wouldn’t have made it to Baden this day, did he stop at the inn Michael had indicated to him on the map? Or had he pressed on stubbornly? He needed to know if he was alright. He needed to see him, maybe touch him. He picked up the dagger from his desk, grasp firm and went to open the window. The air was not as cold but still cool against his skin.  
  
He didn’t care if someone would come in by accident, or saw him from outside.  
  
Michael looked at his hand. A mere cut didn’t seem enough, not when he felt a numbing pain in his chest since this morning. He knelt and put his hand against the windowsill, then took a deep breath and held the dagger over it, point down. He ignored the light tremble in his right and in one quick strike brought the dagger down, driving it right through his own flesh, embedding the tip in the wood underneath.  
  
The pain made him gasp and his grip on the dagger slipped. _Whywhywhy... so much pain...all the delicious feelings, all turned to pain, all mine, love,  pain..._  
He nearly choked. “Find him.” _Must find him._  
  
He cried, white eyes filled with tears of blood that streamed down his face, as his vision roamed, searching, along the roads he knew, hoping for traces, hints, anything that indicated James’ passing. The bright moon shone on muddy roads, old grass, first bold flowers pushing up out of the earth after the cold winter, animals small and big using the cover of the night to eat, to hunt ... he only took short notice of that during his search. James had to be somewhere, he couldn’t just be swallowed from the earth. He reached the inn, kept looking, searching, no sign of James, or the horse. Had he got lost again? His stupid, stupid Diplomat. He reeled back, searching anew, this time in a wider parameter. But nothing. Had he gone on then? Widening the distance between them as quickly as possible?  
Again he looked for the inn and further down the road... it became harder, he tried to rush on but something held him back, he had to slow down - slow down – crawling - trying to inch forward, further away from himself. Further. It was like pushing through mud or water. He barely made any distance at all now. He struggled, trying to tear away from the thing that held him back and limited his range.  
  
Hands on his shoulders. Searing hot. He was struggling to breath, each lung-full of air painful.  
“Your Lordship, oh god! Michael, boy, what have you done?”  
His hand was on fire and cold, there was a wet wrenching sound. He was swaying, feeling lightheaded, though he was sitting. He saw red, white, black, pale blue... His gaze slowly focused. He realised he was staring at his own hand. There was blood welling from a deep wound, the red liquid dripping sluggishly from his fingers. His eyes drifted shut.  
   
“Katharina, don’t just stand there! Help me get him into the bedroom!”  
  
“His hand!”  
  
“Careful.”  
  
He noticed being grabbed at shoulders and legs and carried. Then all he could feel was his hand hurting, before he was pushed onto something soft.  
  
“Take the water and towels from the washstand. Clean his hand. I’ll get bandages.”  
  
Something cold and wet touched his hand. The touch was careful but it hurt, a throbbing pain that seemed to seize his whole arm. He tried to open his eyes again. The room was only dimly lit. He saw one of the servant girls carefully cleaning up his hand. Why hadn’t the wound closed? Slowly he registered more. He felt sick, lightheaded and cold. How long had it taken? How long had he searched? He hadn’t found James, he was already out of his reach. Michael realised he had gone right to his limits, and further. He had no idea how he had returned to himself.  
  
Ferdinand came back, linen bandages in his hand. He shooed the girl away and started wrapping Michael’s hand. Michael hissed as the soft linen touched the open wound and screwed his eyes shut. He was so used to cutting his hand, the short spark of pain that quickly grew distant. What he wasn’t used to, was feeling any pain afterwards. He decided it was worse.    
  
Suddenly something wet touched his face. Surprised he blinked, trying to move his head away. He saw the servant girl, brownish curls showed under her white cap, hazel eyes looked at him, uncertain, but she didn’t look away. Her hand with the wet cloth stayed hovering close. “Excuse me your Lordship, but there is blood on your face too.”  
  
He gave a little nod, or thought he did. He wasn’t certain, because the smallest of movements made him only more nauseous. He closed his eyes again. Either he had managed a nod, or this was rated as consent, since the girl returned gently dabbing blood from his face.  
  
“Please go to the kitchen and get the medicine I put on the oven. The cook knows where I put it. And let them heat some of the soup that was for dinner, and bring it, too.”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
Michael heard her leave, closing the door behind herself.  
  
“What did you try to accomplish?” Ferdinand dropped all formalities, switching from the formal to the very informal address, like he had done sometimes when Michael was still younger and they were alone. Michael was certain though he hadn’t spoken to him like that in the past ten years.  
  
Slowly Michael opened his eyes and looked, really looked at Ferdinand. He still remembered clearly when the man’s hair was still strawberry blonde, now it was the colour of salt and pepper. Though strangely his moustache, that he wore with the ends twirled up – his only vanity – still retained the colour. There were bags around the light blue eyes, making them look small, but still his gaze could be sharp. His face had grown rounder over the years too. But what hadn’t changed was the concern that showed there. He had seen it on Ferdinands face when they, his father and Ferdinand, had found him at the base of the cliff. The first times he had used his new abilities. When he killed the priest...  
  
“I only wanted to do a simple search. I must have got - distracted.” He looked away, his gaze fell on his hand, now bandaged. “Why didn’t my hand heal?”  
  
“Don’t you remember? When I found you, you still had the dagger impaled in your hand. It was stuck right into the wood of the windowsill. Why didn’t you just cut yourself?”  
  
“Ah. No, I don’t remember clearly, not that I didn’t pull the dagger out.” He touched the bandage with the fingers of his right. The simple touch alone brought pain with it and his left hand jerked involuntarily. “As I said, I was distracted and a simple cut would not have worked.”  
  
Ferdinand observed him. “You could always go after him, travel to Baden yourself.”  
  
Michael looked at Ferdinand. “Perhaps...” And do what? It wouldn’t stop James from leaving in the end. He couldn’t follow him everywhere.  
  
“There was a girl once. She was a servant here, you won’t remember, you were like only six. She went to look for a better position in town. I couldn’t leave here, but I thought about just going with her to town, for only the few more days to be with her. Although I knew your father would have had my hide for disappearing for some days. I didn’t do it in the end – I still regret it though.”  
  
One of Michael’s eyebrows arched up. Ferdinand was usually less – personal, less direct in his advice.  
  
“I’m sorry, if I spoke out of turn, your Lordship.”  
  
“No, don’t apologise.” Though he didn’t feel like following the advice. His gaze was drawn to his bandaged hand again. Carefully he touched his fingers. They felt numb.  
  
“Do you think you will heal this after you are rested?”  
  
“I hope.” The pain had subsided to a sharp throbbing, but as soon as he moved the hand a little it felt as if he was stabbing himself again. If he didn’t heal it, with a wound like this, he could well loose the proper use of his hand. He had made a fool of himself. No, he would not run after James. Something tightened around his chest. He tried to ignore the feeling.  
  
There was a knock. Ferdinand went to open the door for the servant girl, who balanced a tray with a bowl and a mug, both steaming hot.  
  
Ferdinand turned to her. “Thank you Katharina. You can put everything on the table there.” The girl did as she was told and then left with a curtsy.  
  
“This one seems to have a lot more backbone than the last one.” Michael commented, searching for anything that would distract him from the pain.  
  
“That she has, your Lordship.” Ferdinand spoke formally again. “A very capable girl.” Michael didn’t miss the sharp misgiving look he was given, betraying any formality.  
  
“What do you believe I’m thinking?” Michael pushed himself up leaning on his right arm, gritting his teeth as the jostling made pain shoot through his left hand. Ferdinand helped him, moving pillows for Michael to lean against and sit properly in bed.  
  
“I am not making any assumptions, Your Lordship, but ...”  
  
“Good!” Michael interrupted him. “Because there is nothing to assume.” Breathing heavily he leant back. He felt exhausted from the little movement, sweat trickling down the side of his face.  
  
Ferdinand brought the tray for him. Michael didn’t feel hungry, but he knew he should eat. He was surprised that in the end he ate the whole bowl of soup. He only drank half of Ferdinand’s ‘medicine’ though, feeling the sweet spicy liquid was going to his head. With his valet's help he undressed and lay down back in bed. After Ferdinand had gone he reached out with his right and pulled one of the pillows closer. It still smelled faintly of James. He felt his throat tighten. He balled his hands to fists, the pain caused by that driving tears to his eyes. For a moment he fought for breath, he started to feel lightheaded, distanced from himself, from the pain. _Sleep – mending is pain – no more - sleep_   It didn’t take long for the hand to heal and the angry stabbing pain in his hand to subside. Exhausted he felt the world around him coming back and slip away right again, as exhaustion took him and he drifted off into sleep.  
###  
Tbc


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More than a month passed since Michael and James parted. How Michael deals with James absence and what James got up to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kurfürst = prince elector. I decided to stick with the German version of the title

Spring had banished winter for sure now. The days had grown warmer and longer, long enough so it was easy to travel a good distance over the land that made up Michael’s principality.  
  
It had allowed Michael to stay out, roaming his lands for most of the day. He made sure to visit every corner, taking stock of the damage done by the long cold winter. More bridges that needed repair, parts of the forest, where trees had been felled by the masses of snow and now needed to be cleared.  He followed up on complaints some farmers had brought to him of a wolf-pack going after their sheep. Highly unlikely as it was though. He’d never seen any traces of wolves in the forests since he was old enough to go hunting. His father had told him about hunting wolves, but it seemed they had either moved out of this area long since. More likely it was some wild dogs. Still those needed to be hunted down, before they did more damage. So a hunting party would have to be organised.  
  
Spring brought with it a lot of work. He could have delegated some of the tasks to his servants, but he grasped at the opportunity to get out of the mansion and to have something else to occupy his mind with.   
  
Now the sun was creeping towards the horizon, and he had to turn around. His horse gave a snort, sensing it was finally getting back to its stable.   
  
The sun had already disappeared as they came upon the road leading to the estate and the horse seemed to find enough energy left in itself to fall into a canter now that the stable and food beckoned. Michael was a lot less thrilled to return. More than a month had passed, and he still had no word from James.  
  
He had sent Matthias to Baden soon after James had left, taking James’ horse and his belongings with him. The man had returned with Michael’s horse but no other news. Michael had toyed with the idea of sending a letter, but every time he had set down to write something, his mind went blank. All he could think of was how much he missed James and writing down those exact words seemed pathetic.  
  
He went through the estates gate, and urged his horse away from the main path leading to the mansion and straight towards the stables. Some servants were bustling around unloading a cart. He noticed, it must be Matthias back from Baden again. A tense feeling of anticipation spread from his stomach. Michael forced himself to get off his horse slowly and hand the reigns to one of the stablehands rushing over. Taking his time he walked away from the outhouses back to the mansion. Inside Ferdinand greeted him and helped him out of his coat and jacket. Michael refrained from asking. He hoped for news on James but dreaded that again there would be none.  
  
“Dinner is ready, your Lordship” Ferdinand informed him, “but as you might have seen, Matthias has returned and I thought you might want to know the news he brought first.”  
  
Michael tensed. “What news? Any... “ he stopped. News, Ferdinand had said, not letters. “Send him into my study.”  
  
“As you wish.” Ferdinand rushed off and Michael headed straight for his study, trying hard not to think what those ominous news might be.  
  
In his study he opened his cigar-case, took one of the cigars and lit it. Trying to calm and distract himself he took a long drag of smoke, then absently toyed with the cigar between his fingers and brushed the glowing end against the silver ashtray, concentrating in brushing off the ash without dousing the cigar. Finally Matthias appeared at the open door, catching Michael’s attention with a bow and: “Your Lordship wanted to speak with me.”  
  
Michael turned towards the man. “Come in. Ferdinand told me you have some news.” He doused the cigar, then stepped away from his table and sat down on the plush armchair. His heart was hammering like madly in his chest and he had to clench his hands to keep them from shaking. Was he really that pathetic in need of news for James? He forced himself to relax.  
  
“Yes your Lordship. When I was in Baden, I couldn’t help noticing, there were troops there. Wearing French uniforms.”  
  
Michael sat up at that. So it had started. “Where there many?”   
  
“It didn’t look like an occupation force, if that is what his Lordship is thinking. But people seemed quite ... cosy with them. They are here by invitation I was told. There are some staying at the guards quarters at the palace in Baden, and at the garrison.”  
  
Michael was dimly aware that he nodded. That would mean James had gone. He hoped. He hoped he had enough sense to know, that it was no longer safe here and got back to England. He pressed his lips together. Had James thought of his words to him when he left? _“I’ll try and come back.”_ Or had he forgotten already? Michael had known that this was how it would end. He felt very much the fool to have allowed himself to hope. So lost in thoughts made him miss Matthias next words.  
  
“... two weeks before the French troops came.”  
  
“What?”  
  
Matthias looked a bit uncertain at his reaction. “Should I not have inquired. I’m sorry, your Lordship.”  
  
Michael waved his hand dismissive. “No. Repeat what you said.”  
  
“Your Lordship means, that part about me inquire among the servants of the palace about your guest?”  
  
Michael nodded slowly.  
  
“I was told he went to the summerpalace with Kurfürst Karl Friedrich, before the French troops came. They haven’t heard of him since, but should he return to England he might not pass through Baden again.”  
  
“Ah... thank you.” So James might still. No, he had to hope, for his sake, that he had left.  
  
“And there is this.” The servant reached into the pocket of his coat and pulled out a letter. Michael felt like his heart stopped for a moment. He reached out a hand and Matthias handed the letter over. As Michael’s eyes fell on the letter disappointment dropped heavily on his shoulders, crushing him. It was not from James but Kurfürst Karl Friedrich. “Any other letters?”  
  
“No, your Lordship. Not this time.”  
  
Michael dismisses him with a nod. He felt listless, turning the letter idly between his fingers, not curious at all to what he might have written. He just wanted to get up and drop the unopened letter on his desk but then stopped himself. Maybe in the Kurfürst’s writing he could find a hint of what had happened with James.   
  
Briskly he got up, took the letter opener from his desk and slit the paper open. He scanned the letter, then read it again, more slowly. A frown settled on his face. There was no hint or news of his English Diplomat and his whereabouts to be found, nonetheless the letter caught his full attention.   
  
“...advising you, as a fellow sovereign who has to consider the wellbeing of his state first and foremost, to join in an alliance that has been proposed by the Napoleon, Emperor of France. Where the big empires of Russia, Austria and Britain seek to immobilise us and hold firm to their old believes, Napoleon is an emperor leaning toward the modern age... it seems vital for the German states to remember our similarities.... want to invite you to my residence to discuss further actions...perhaps it would be convenient for you to attend the ball I am giving for the 18th birthday of my niece Luise. It would be a pleasure if you could attend. I will take the liberty of sending you an invitation... ”  
  
Michael growled and on an impulse crumpled the letter. He was no fool, he knew, as much as he wished to retain a neutral position in this conflict, for a small principality as his this was nearly impossible. But he’d be damned, if he just fell right into Napoleons arms. He was not thrilled with the Austrian empire either, not after the very high possibility of them confiscating his property and part of him could understand Karl Friedrich’s fears. The words ‘stand together’ and the mention of his niece in one letter though, let Michael’s alarm bells sound. He remembered the annoying Kurfürst making inquiries about his intentions to marry, as they met the last time, followed by comments on how Michael should try to ally himself to some of the bigger principalities. He had had the feeling Karl Friedrich had been prying into his affairs way to much, for it to be just formalities or a passing interest. Michael got the impression then, that the Kurfürst would love to incorporate his lands. For that scheming alone, he was very much opposed Karl Friedrich’s plans.   
  
And then there was James.   
  
If only he could get word to James.  
  
If only he knew where his English Diplomat was right now.  
  
+++  
  
It was well past midnight, and everyone in the summer-palace of Baden’s sovereign had gone to sleep. Only at the main gates and entrances lamps were left burning, the rest of the building lay in dark shadows, accentuated by a nearly full moon. Sometimes the quiet night was disturbed by an owl hooting. The night-air was still too cool for many insects to buzz about, nevertheless some bats made their silent rounds on leathery wings. Circling the building in search for food. Inside the palace, everyone was fast asleep.  
  
James crept slowly along one of the hallways. He carried no light, but relied solely on the moonlight coming in through the windows and his knowledge of the layout of the place, that he had gained through being a guest for the past weeks. A guest that had to suddenly flee or rather – make himself spares - and now was creeping back in unseen. He reached his goal, the wide doors that led to the study of Kurfürst Karl Friedrich. Carefully he tried the handle, though he knew it would be locked. With a smirk he pulled out the key he had picked up before, pushed it in and slowly twisted it in the lock to avoid any noise. With a soft click the door unlocked and he pushed it open. James slipped inside and locked the door right behind himself again.  
  
Relieved he let out a sigh and allowed himself to rest against the door for a moment. His heart was hammering in his chest, but he felt a certain thrill as well. So he was a diplomat turned spy. He would have liked to laugh, but refrained himself. No use  risking to make any unnecessary sound. Though it was highly unlikely anyone would be awake and close enough hear him right now. The only people not asleep were the guards and those were only stationed at the gates.   
  
He had given them the slip once already, right the moment he had learned an English Diplomat was no longer welcome. After all the palace grounds offered more than the proper gates to gain entrance and leave. Having had someone to provide him with all that information hadn’t hurt of course. Someone who had given him the knowledge of where to find the key to the study, too.   
  
But now was not the time for glee. He had something important to do here. Get the documents that held in detail Napoleons offers and plans for the German states. Then get out of the palace, travel through land that was slowly spilling over with hostile troops and deliver said papers back to Britain. Piece of cake.  
  
His German was far from good enough yet to let him pass as from this country. He had been learning, thinking of... Determined he stepped to the massive secretary that dominated the room. Now, where was the secret compartment with the documents supposed to be. His fingers traced over the wooden surface, taking in all the nooks and crannies in the elaborate woodwork. It was actually good he couldn’t see much, his fingers seemed much more apt at finding anything out of the ordinary. There! A piece of the carving seemed loose. Carefully he pushed and prodded at it until his fingers found the right way to twist it. There was  a soft click. Part of the wooden surface of the desk sprang open. James pushed it back, revealing a slim compartment that held a folder with papers. He eased it out and went with it over to the window. He didn’t want to light a candle that someone might see from outside. So he contented himself to ruffle through the papers by the pale light of the moon.  
  
There were some letters bearing Napoleon’s seal. Quickly he opened them and scanned their content. Exactly what he had been looking for. He liberated some folded maps, that showed some writing and markings as well, without checking too closely what they were. Anyhow they seemed important. He bound the papers together with a piece of string and stuffed them into an inside pocket of his coat, then carefully put the folder back and closed the secret compartment. He had no idea how long it would take till someone would note they were missing. Not to soon, he hoped. And hopefully Karl Friedrich would never realise who had broken in or how he had got the keys. Even with Karl Ludwig being the Kurfürst’s grandson, James’ doubted that would spare him from the wrath.  
  
For a moment James felt a tiny bit guilty for the young man. If it weren’t for Michael, James might not even have noticed the glances Karl Ludwig was throwing him, the shy smiles whenever James happened to look his way. So he had approached him, talked to him, flirted even, though not because he had any particular interest in him just... just because he realised it was something he missed. He had been glad to find the young man was much too worried about anyone finding out. So a tentative touch was all he dared. He could have pushed him further probably – if he had wanted. But after every conversation with Karl Ludwig James found himself thinking of Michael.   
  
James allowed himself to close his eyes for a moment as he felt a tightness around his chest that came back whenever he thought of Michael.  
  
He missed him.  
  
He had thought with distance and time it would become a ‘German adventure’ as Michael had so bitterly called it. Yes, he was guilty of thinking that way. Of trying to distance himself from the sweet moments he had enjoyed at Michael’s estate. It had felt ... surreal. Michael, a demon, his powers. Back in the ‘real world’ it seemed to grow into strange memory, but then he heard someone use the name ‘Michael’ and it brought him right back. He saw someone in a black unadorned waistcoat and found himself imagining, what if Michael came here to see him.  
  
There was no use thinking about what wasn’t. Even if it all would turn just into a memory, it had been able to serve a purpose. Karl Ludwig had seen him as a friend, a confident, so as soon as he heard any news that could bring trouble for an English diplomat, he had come to him. That was how he had found out about the letters and papers, about the plans to either throw him out or hand him over to the French – something he had avoided by disappearing unseen one evening – with Karl Ludwig’s help.   
  
The location of the key to the study door – well that he had got through pretending he wanted to use the room for something else entirely. A secret meeting. Where the chance to be discovered where close to nil. Though he wasn’t entirely certain if Karl Ludwig hadn’t guessed his true reason for wanting to know. Still he had told him, despite the meeting never happening.   
  
James pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. He could think and guilt about all that later. When he was safely gone from the palace. He threw one last glance back at the dark room. Everything seemed in order. Then he went to the door to unlock it and slip out back into the dark corridor. If he wanted to make sure his little nightly visit stayed unnoticed for as long as possible, he would have to take the key back again.  
  
Silently he crept back along the corridor and down the broad staircase to reach the ground floor. Suddenly a door was opened, light spilled out into the corridor and he heard two women giggle. James’ froze. His gaze darted to the door that had been opened, back up the stairs, and the hallway that stood between him and the door that led outside. Could he make it without being seen, should he turn back upstairs, risking getting trapped? He ducked quickly as two women, scantly dressed in nightgowns, hair worn loose, emerged from one of the rooms. One held a candelabra. If they came his way, the railing of the staircase didn’t offer enough coverage.   
  
The light and whispering of the two women came closer. ‘No-no-no! Please, no! I want to see Michael again.’ Was all he could think about. Nothing for it. He focused on the outside door, his body tensing, ready to sprint, just as he heard a sudden gasp and the alarmed whisper. “Amelie! Da, bei der Treppe! Wer...?”  
  
He ran for it.  
  
He heard the shrill shrieks of the two women as he reached the door. He grasped the handle and tore it open, slipping out into the dark night. Behind him, all hell broke loose. There were shouts, the banging of doors, lights flared up. He quickly veered  to the right, trying to keep in the building’s shadow. He cursed the bright moonlight now, which would give him away quickly.   
  
Heavy footsteps on the cobbled ground alerted him to the guards. He tried to run faster, ducked through an archway and headed back around the palace, towards its outbuildings. He hoped the guards would concentrate on securing the main gates and search the main palace grounds first.   
  
“Dort! Da läuft jemand zu den Ställen!”  
  
“Shit!” James cursed under his breath. No such luck.   
  
He ran on, not daring to look back, skidding round the big stable buildings, heading for the orchard behind, that came right up to the wall surrounding the palace grounds. He didn’t dare slow down, though the air in his lungs was burning and his calves felt like on fire. He could hear his pursuers, they where right behind him.   
  
James hoped he might loos them in the orchard, between the apple-trees where the moonlight didn’t penetrate through the dense canopy of leaves, but he didn’t dare try and go in a zigzag course to shake them off, fearing he would loose his advance and end up getting cut off from his escape route. So he ran in a straight line to the one tree that had branches low enough to be easily climbable and stood right at the wall. Without stopping he grasped the lowest branch and hauled himself up, scrambling up and between the branches. He nearly knocked himself out on one treebranche he didn’t see. The rough bark was scraping at his hands and face he barely noticed.  
  
“Da! Auf dem Baum!”  
  
“Schnell! Er entkommt sonst”  
  
James got onto the wall, a grin splitting his face for a moment. He made it. Even if they came after him now, his horse was right close by. They’d not catch up.  
  
The loud sound of gunshots being fired made him flinch. He jerked forward as something hit him.  
There was a sudden searing pain at his right shoulder and he lost his balance. He fell forward, flailing and only managed in the last moment to role with the fall. For a moment his vision went black as the pain in his shoulder seemed to explode and became unbearable.  
  
The next thing he knew, he was lying on his back, panting heavily, looking up into the peaceful star-filled night-sky. There were shouts coming from the other side of the wall, getting closer.  
  
He pulled himself up on his feet, moaning at the pain that spread from his shoulder. He had been shot. But he was still alive. They only hit his shoulder, though he had no idea how bad it was. He didn’t dare to stop and look. He tore through the underbrush surrounding the palace, till he came to the small path were he had left his horse. It whinnied in recognition as he approached. For a moment he leaned against the warm heavy body, panting, eyes closed against the pain in his shoulder. He untied the reigns from the nearby tree using only one hand. Then he grasped the pommel of his saddle with his left hand, put his foot in the stirrups and swung himself up. The jarring motion brought another wave of pain making him grit his teeth so he wouldn’t call out. He was shaking as he grasped the reigns and urged the horse into a walk.  
  
His plan had been to head for the road and with the moon out, to travel swiftly to the little inn he had gone to, after leaving the palace. As he came close to the road though, he saw soldiers with torches there. How had everything gone downhill so quickly? For a moment he felt despair as a wave of weariness and pain hit him. But he pressed his lips firmly together. He had been able to get the papers he wanted, he had been able to get out. They had not yet caught him, and he would be damned if he made it easy for them. He was a Scottish Earl after all.   
  
So he had the most important things of his possessions in his saddlebags. Maps, compass, money, water and a little food as well as a knife and two pistols. He would head for the little inn, sticking to the forest. Maybe he would get lucky and the Kurfürst’s men wouldn’t look for him there. It was somewhat off the road. The wound was something else. He should look after it first, but in the dark he would hardly be able to make out the damage. ‘I’ve got to have some luck in this.’ Tentatively he reached up to his shoulder with his left hand. The sleeve of his coat was wet and sticky at a small patch where part of it was torn. He let out a slow breath. It seemed like, though it was hurting like hell, this was only a graze shot.  
That meant he didn’t have to worry about bleeding out. Still, as soon as he got the chance he would have to get the wound cleaned and bandaged.  
  
Warily he urged his horse back deeper into the forest.  
  
How he would escape the county of Baden and get back to Britain, when the German States were crawling with French soldiers, he had no idea yet.   
  
+++  
  
Michael closed the bedroom door behind himself and put the candelabra, the only source of light left in his rooms, on a little table. He had sent Ferdinand off to bed about an hour ago and everything around him was quiet. Way to quiet. For a long moment he looked at the empty bed then started to mechanically strip his clothes, dropping them over one of the chairs. He blew out the candles, then moved to lay down. The sheets felt cool against his skin. Closing his eyes he tried to relax, but only grew more aware of what he was missing. The smell of James had not lingered. Now it was just his bed again.   
  
He tried to ignore how empty he felt, as he willed himself to sleep.  
###  
tbc


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James is on the run. He has stolen some important documents and there is a squadron of French Hussars sent after him to get it back. What to do? James has to make a hard decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this is somewhat late but it’s a big chapter with lots of action.  
> Many thanks to gabriel4sam for the translation to French! as well as to crazymaexchen, ohteepeeh and blktauna who helped with some last minute translation that came up during the edits.
> 
> Plus a friend played military advisor, so I wouldn’t botch up the Napoleonic Army too much. XD So I had loads of help with this chapter. All remaining mistakes are mine.
> 
> Just for clarification some terms that might need explanation:  
> escadron/squadron = troop of up to 20 men put together for special assignments  
> carabin = special form of rifle used by the Hussar regiments  
> dolman = the fur-edged jacket Hussars wear over their regular jacket, draped over one shoulder. Looks a bit like a short cape with sleeves. (Yes, Hussars are fancy bastards. ^_~ )
> 
> Capitaine Maraval was inspired by Vincent Perez who played a likewise named french officer in Bruc, the manhunt aka Legend of The Soldier.
> 
> ###  
> Warnings: Angst, blood and gore, hurt James, hurt Michael, German and French!

James reined back his horse and looked down the slopes of the forested hill they had just climbed.  
  
He couldn’t see his pursuers, but he heard the dogs bark in the distance. They had caught up with him - again. He had had several close calls with the escadron of French soldiers, that were dispatched to catch him and the documents he had stolen.. After his narrow escape from the Kurfürst’s residence he had been exhilarated to find that the resident soldiers were soon drawn back from the chase. He’d believed himself scot-free and had started to plot a route that would take him back to England. Confident he had asked for shelter with a local farmer, but – luckily – before he could get comfortable in the hay, the French suddenly showed up and he barely was able to escape.  
  
That Kurfürst Karl Friedrich had turned towards his new allies for help in catching him at least told him that the documents in his coat pocket were incredibly important. And it only spurred him on in his attempt to get those documents to safety. If only he could escape his pursuers. But they were relentless in chasing him. Every time he thought he finally managed to shake them off, they would just suddenly appear hot on his trail again.  
  
Without any proper nights sleep for a week, James felt exhausted. He tried to find covert places to hide for the night, but despite his tiredness he found himself jerking awake again and again, thinking he had heard something, fearing the French had found his hideout and were upon him. His horse wasn’t any better off. Its coat was dusty from the road, its gait had become weary and it had a graze wound at its hind quarter, ironically matching James’ own injured shoulder.  
  
He had been able to bandage himself up, but the constant movement had the wound open up again. It refused to heal properly, and he had run out of clean bandages. Things were looking rather bleak. As the likelihood for an escape grew smaller, another thought had grown more prominent in his mind. And it was tinged with the bitter taste of desperation.  
  
He wanted to see Michael. Just one more time.  
  
Perhaps it was because the time he had spent with Michael was the last time he had really felt relaxed and safe. Whatever, over the last days he had found himself thinking about Michael more and more and during his nights he spent awake mostly anyhow, he new plan slowly took shape in his mind.  
  
He would take the documents to Michael. James could only hope he would take the, keep them safe and send them on. Maybe he could trade his ships from the Austrian Emperor with them. That way the information would at least reach the forces opposing Napoleon.  
  
James was worried and found himself doubting his idea from time to time. He felt bad for leading the French soldiers right to Michael, but he really didn’t know what else he could do. To truly escape was no longer an option. But this way he could at least make sure it all was not in vain.  
  
James touched his coat where he carried the documents. Soon this would be over. And he could see Michael one last time, perhaps tell him... James pressed his lips together and urged his horse along the road, forcing the weary beast into a light canter.  
He had to hurry, the escadron was much too close already. There wouldn’t be much time to give Michael the papers. And then he would give those French bastards a chase to remember. He just hoped they would kill him quick.  
  
+++  
  
The sun shone right onto the big courtyard of Michael’s estate, where bushes and trees were standing in full bloom. A soft humming lay in the air from bees busy at work. It looked like a perfect spring afternoon, if it weren’t for the cursing coming from the fountain in the middle of the courtyard. The fountain, that still seemed caught in its winter sleep. It looked bleak without water coming from its elaborate figure in the middle and the basin beneath lay empty and grey.  
  
Michael strode down the steps of his mansion and walked briskly over to the centre of the courtyard. He rounded the empty basin and headed for the side facing away from the mansion, where the pipes for the water supplies were installed. He stopped at the fountains edge and looked down at the two men busy at work. They were trying to remove a piece of the metal pipe that ran on the base of the basin to the massive statue right in the middle.  
  
“This sodding piece of pipe is completely wedged, we wont get it out that way. Would be easier to load up some earth, cart it all over here and just dump it in and be done with the cursed fountain. Who needs a bloody fountain anyway. Just work and no... ”  
  
Michael had listened with interest to the men, who were still unaware of his presence. “You need not worry about its use. But I will look forward to see the fountain run again.”  
  
Both men jumped in shock and turned around, quickly drawing their hats. The man who had spoken had a flaming red face. “Beg your pardon, your Lordship. Didn’t mean anything by that. Just idle talk.”  
  
“Perhaps you should talk less and work more.” Michael crouched down on the edge to get a better view. “Will you need a new pipe to replace the old one?”  
  
“Well your Lordship, probably just a piece. We can’t tell for sure till after we’ve replaced it and let the water run again. This part is clearly damaged, but we can’t find anything on the rest. Still could prove faulty though.”  
  
“So what you are trying to tell me is, that this will still take longer.” Irritated he noted that one of the men was staring past him. He turned to look what was so much more interesting and froze.  
  
Woodenly Michael finally stood up.  
  
James had halted his horse at the edge of the courtyard, just sitting there in his saddle, leaning forward slightly.  
  
Was he imagining this? No. His first impulse was to run forward, his second to turn around and walk straight back inside. He couldn’t do this again. He couldn’t let him leave once more. Why did James return after almost two months? Why was he still here and not safely back in England. Michael started walking towards James.    
  
Like that was a cue, James urged his horse into a walk as well. It seemed reluctant to move for a moment, then took step after step, head hanging low and sides heaving. Michael barely noticed that as his gaze was fixed on James’ face. His heart started beating faster and despite his initial reluctance he couldn’t help but smile. His throat tightened. He wanted to just grab the man and pull him down into his arms.  
  
The smile on Michael’s face slowly turned into a frown as he took in the other man’s appearance. His coat was dirty and torn at places. His face was pale and drawn, with dark circles under his eyes. The delight of seeing him gave way to alarm. “James? What happened? You look like hell!”  
  
++  
  
James laughed. The sound just bubbled up from his chest, he couldn’t help it. Just seeing Michael again made him feel light headed and it felt like something loosened inside his chest.  
  
But reality hit home hard. He closed his eyes for only a moment, then opened them again, wanting to use every moment to burn the other mans face into his memories. But there was no time. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to... but I didn’t know what else, where else... there is no one I can trust with this.” He reached for the documents he had carried inside his coat for a week now. His hand was shaking slightly as he held them out. “Don’t tell them you have them. Tell them I passed here, asking for some food but you chased me off.”  
  
Michael looked aghast at him. “What are you talking about?” He stepped closer, reached out but took hold of James wrist instead of the papers. “Get down that horse, you can’t just ride on. You look like hell... I wont let you go!” The was a harsh determination in his voice.  
  
James shook his head. “No, I can’t. You don’t understand. There is a French escadron right on my heels. They are after those documents. Use them to get your ships back or... or send them on to England. Please. Please the information is important. But I can’t stay here. They’ll only kill you too.”  
  
Michael’s face was unreadable as he looked up at James, but his eyes looked dark. He shook his head, only a slight movement and James felt his heart sink. He wouldn’t do it, he wouldn’t help. Had he been so wrong in coming here again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to bring more trouble to your doorstep, I’m sure...” He was cut off suddenly, as Michael stepped close and with one movement pulled him out of the saddle.  
  
For a moment James felt dizzy, then he was wrapped in Michael’s arms. His shoulder hurt, but it was only a small discomfort compared to the feeling of just being close to him again – if only for a moment. He allowed himself to close his eyes and indulge in the feeling, concentrating on how he could feel Michael’s heart beat, his breathing and how he smelled of soap, cigars and something he couldn’t quite place his finger on but was just Michael. It made him aware of how horrid he must smell – and look.  
  
“I wont let you go again!” Michael’s voice was harsh at his ear.  
  
The word’s brought him back to reality. “Damn it, Michael! Don’t be more stubborn than me. This is dangerous, you can’t hide me. They have dogs, there are some 20 men. They will kill you and everyone who stands in their way. You... I can’t risk that!”  
  
Michael growled. “This is my decision. You are hardly able to stand, let alone flee.” James felt Michael’s scrutinising gaze on himself. The next thing he knew, Michael was shouting orders he understood only half of at the men who had been working at the fountain. “Thomas, bring das Pferd in die Ställe, reib’ es trocken und versteck die Satteltaschen und den Sattel im Heu.”  
  
Michael plucked the documents out of James unresisting hands, while he steered him toward the door. James felt he should resist, he should try and get back onto his horse but weariness was taking over and he felt like simply collapsing. He let himself be pulled along.  
  
“Ferdinand!”  
  
The familiar figure ran towards them. “Euer Durchlaucht, ich habe gehört, dass...” He stopped as his gaze fell on James.  
  
Michael pressed the documents into his hands and spoke softly. “Bring die Dokumente in die Kapelle und versteck sie. Ich bringe James in mein Schlafzimmer. Sieh zu, das sich jemand um ihn kümmert. Die Franzosen sind hinter ihm her.  Sorg dafür das alle drinnen bleiben – und das keiner etwas sagt!”  
  
Ferdinand nodded and rushed back into the house.  
  
Some more servants had been bold enough to peek out the door, drawn by the commotion. Michael was shouting orders at them too, but James found his thoughts were circling around the fact that the documents were safe. In the chapel. If they were well hidden, the French would not find them there, surely. But only if they had no reason to search. Only if he was gone.  
  
James stopped, refusing to be pulled on. “Michael, stop! This is more important. I can’t stay. If they find me here, they’ll know the documents are here too. They will tear the house down in their search. You’ve got to let me go!”  
  
Suddenly Michael grabbed his shoulders and planted himself in front of him. “Now you listen to me! I will not let them take you. You came back...you, I wont - just let me take care of this.”  
  
James didn’t have the energy left to object. He closed his eyes and nodded. Although he couldn’t stop that little voice, telling him he was endangering everything if he stayed.  
  
Michael led him to his bedroom. He pushed him down so he sat on the bed, though James was reluctant to do so, aware how dirty his clothes were after the weeks long chase. Suddenly he felt Michael’s lips brush against his. The touch was way to short to be a proper kiss. It hit James how much he had missed this, wanted this. He reached up, taking hold of Michael’s jacket, stopping him. For a moment he allowed himself to relax, to fantasise about hiding here, while the French passed by, believing he wasn’t here.  
  
He reached up with his free hand, touching Michael’s cheek. Michael closed his eyes for a moment then suddenly bent down again. This time they kissed for real. James pushed his tongue in Michael’s mouth, not giving him much opportunity to respond but just claiming Michael’s mouth for himself.  
  
Only as he started to feel slightly dizzy did James reluctantly end the kiss. His fingers let go of Michael’s jacket and he let the hand sink to his lap.  
  
For a  short moment Michael looked almost uncertain at him. But then he pressed his lips together. “Stay here. I’ll send someone to take care of you. Whatever happens, don’t come out.”  
  
James nodded, watching Michael leave. He slumped forward. He wouldn’t have to come out, they would come in, drag him out and then punish or kill Michael for lying to them. The only chance he had to stop that from happening, was to make sure Michael didn’t lie about his whereabouts. James’ eyes moved toward the window.  
  
The door was pushed open and a servant girl came in, she carried a pitcher from which steam curled up. She curtsied. “Seine Durchlaucht hat mich geschickt. Ich bringe Euch heißes Wasser zum waschen.” She look half questing at him, but then went over to the wash-stand and poured the water in. It was tempting to, just for a moment, indulge in the luxuries. James got up and walked over to her. The girl stepped aside but looked unabashed at his clothes and his face. Only as he looked directly at her did she avert her gaze. For a moment James thought her familiar. He was sure he had seen her here before. ‘Oh, the one that saw us come in, with Michael’s hands tied.’  
  
“Braucht Ihr sonst etwas, Kleidung? Etwas zu essen? Seid Ihr verletzt?”  
  
James didn’t catch the last one, but fresh clothes and food sounded good. Also it would keep her occupied long enough for him to disappear. He smiled. “Ja, bitte. Essen und Kleidung.” Yes please, food and clothes. He would have tried something more eloquent but felt too tired.  
  
She curtsied again and left. James braced himself on the washstand for a moment, then dipped his hands in the water. It was almost too hot, yet still felt good. He washed his hands and face, wondering how much time he had? Would the French be here already? He tried to listen, but couldn’t make out, if there was something happening outside. He had to assume that there was not enough time. He dried his face then went over to the window and opened it. Carefully he climbed onto the windowsill and eased himself down to the ground.  
  
+++  
  
Michael stepped out onto the porch. He still felt a little dizzy and his heart was beating quickly. James had come back. Michael didn’t care if James had brought the whole Grande Armée with him, just that – he had come back. Michael gritted his teeth. And no matter what, he planned to not simply slip away again. He balled his hands to fists.  
  
“Your Lordship...”  
  
Startled Michael looked at Ferdinand, who had approached him. “Yes, what is it?”  
  
“I did as you said, but, do you think the French will be fooled and not come looking for him? Wouldn’t it be safer to take him somewhere else to hide?” A frown of worry creased Ferdinand’s features.  
  
“Where to do you suggest? And you have seen him. It’s a surprise he has managed to come this far! He looks like he hasn’t slept for days! He stays... and I will do everything that is necessary.” Michael tried to keep his voice low despite the temper he felt welling up at Ferdinand’s suggestion. “Go and get my dagger from the study.”  
  
“Please.. may I speak frankly – your Lordship.”  
  
“If you must.”  
  
Ferdinand kept his voice low but beseeching. “I fear you are not thinking this through. This puts you, the estate, everything in danger, including the young Earl. If these documents are so important to the French as it seems, they will stop at nothing until they have them!”  
  
Michael showed no reaction to those words. “You said what you wanted to say, now get the dagger!”  
  
For a moment it seemed like Ferdinand wanted to protest, but then he turned on his heels and walked back inside. “Damn it, boy...”  
  
“Ferdinand!” Michael barked. He couldn’t have anyone defy him, especially not now.  
  
The man stopped, turned toward him and bowed. “I’m sorry, your Lordship.”  
  
Michael nodded and let the man go. He stared towards the gate. No sign of the French. Perhaps they wouldn’t find him, ride past... Was there anything he could do to ensure that? _Kill them._  
  
He noticed some commotion on the stretch of road, that could be seen from where he stood and slowly moved back inside, closing the door behind himself. Then he stepped to the window. It wouldn’t do, for him looking like he had been waiting, like he knew they would come. The servant girl, Katharina, he had sent to look after James, rushed past him with an empty pitcher. “Is he alright?”  
  
The girl stopped startled. “I just brought him water to wash and he requested some food and clothing, your Lordship.”  
  
Michael nodded absently, his gaze flickering to the courtyard and the road leading there. He could see them now. About 20 soldiers on horseback, five dogs running between them, tongues lolling. The riders all wore pale blue: jacket, trousers and a dolman adorned with white fur. Though that was the simplest decoration of their uniforms. Yellow buttons, high adorned boots, large black hats with white decorations – their unifroms marked them as not just any soldiers, but hussars. James was a good rider, he knew, but he must have had luck on his side, to be able to escape such an elite troupe – escape until now.  
  
The hussars halted in the courtyard, spreading out.  
  
“Go to the kitchens and stay there. Tell the other servants to stay inside too, understood.”  
  
“Yes, your Lordship.” Her voice sounded firm and she headed for the kitchen, only after she was a few steps away, did she start to run.  
  
“Your Lordship...” Ferdinand appeared by his side, putting the dagger into his hand. Michael put it into his coat pocket. If need be, he would just have to reach inside and grasp it. It was sharp enough.  
  
He wanted to step to the door, but Ferdinand was faster. “Please, let me, your Lordship.”  
  
“You don’t speak any French.”  
  
“The better to remind them, that they are not on their own turf, but on foreign lands, is it not.”  
  
Michael hesitated, but then nodded and let Ferdinand go outside. He moved back to the window to watch, hidden by the heavy drapes, as the Captain of the escadron rode forward, giving Ferdinand a short dismissive once over. "Nous recherchons un homme, un fugitif. Il a dû passer par ici."  
  
“I am very sorry, but I do not speak French. You are here at the Estate of Fürst von Fassbender.”  
  
The French captain looked somewhat displeased, but then he reluctantly switched to a heavily accented German. “Then fetch your Fürst, so I can speak to him.”  
  
Michael waited and observed, trying to judge the captain. He looked about 40, sported a bushy beard that spread over his cheeks and under his chin. The beard, together with his grim set mouth, made him look like a wolf. Tension crept up Michael’s spine and for a moment he reassured himself of the sharp dagger in his jacket pocket.  
  
Ferdinand gave a slight nod. “I will fetch him. Please wait here.”  
  
As soon as Ferdinand had turned his back and walked into the mansion, the Captain turned to the men on his right and left and gave them small signs with his hand. The two turned their horses and idly rode to either the side of the mansion and disappeared around the corner. Keeping an eye on the back? The impertinence made Michael frown.  
  
Ferdinand came over to him. “Your Lordship heard...”  
  
“Yes. And I see what he’s doing. Let’s see how far his audacity goes.” He studied the Captain some more. The man looked impatient at the door. He didn’t get down of his horse. Was that to make sure to intimidate him or to be able to ride on any moment. Maybe he was expecting to not find James here, which would be good.  
  
He felt a short touch of a hand on his shoulder and turned to look into Ferdinand’s earnest face. “Please be careful.”  
  
Michael huffed. “Bit late for that.” He waited another moment, then nodded to Ferdinand who walked ahead of him and opened the door. Michael stepped out onto the porch and moved forward to the first step. He stopped there and waited. The Captain didn’t move to unseat. Michael felt the hair at the back of his neck rise at the lack of courtesy and respect. Michael’s gaze narrowed.  
  
Leisurely the Captain took off his hat with his left, stretched out his arm and pulled the hat back against his chest in formal greeting. "Je suis le Capitaine Maraval, Commandant  d'un des escadrons du Cinquième Régiment, au service de Sa Majesté le Roi de France."  
  
Michael took a moment time to answer, pondering for a moment how – and in which language to respond. He choose German. “Fürst Michael von Fassbender, welcome to my estate.”  
  
For a moment the irritation was clearly written on the French captain’s face. Well, both could play at denying the other basic courtesies. This still was his land, even if he had no 20 soldiers on horseback armed with guns, knives and sabres to defend it. He smiled. “I am very sorry, but my throat is feeling terribly sore and in that state I cannot speak French.” His tone was apologetic, perhaps a little too much so. He had to think of James and how he complained about German and added, almost more sincere. “German is such an ugly language, ideal for a sore throat, don’t you think.”  
  
Captain Maraval, as he had introduced himself, seemed hard pressed to find a suitable answer to that. Michael couldn’t help notice the disconcerting silver shine in the man’s eyes that only added to the man’s wolfish appearance. He looked tense and like he rather pull his sabre on Michael than talk.  A man who had risen from the lower ranks, Michael judged. Someone with a more well bred background would not have abandoned the common courtesies. He’d have felt like degrading himself and not just his opponent. Michael had a suspicion that the man’s background was not working in his favour.  “So what brings you to my Estate?”  
  
Reluctantly the captain answered in the language he was addressed with. “I am tracking a thieve. Our dogs followed his trail here.” Said dogs were currently held on a long leash by one of the men on horseback. Michael only spared them a short disinterested glance, but then tried to look at least a bit surprised. “A whole Hussar escadron sent out to capture a mere thieve?” He shook his head. “But I am sorry, your dogs must have misled you. Take my word, none of my servants are thieves.”  
  
Maraval  gave him an assessing look. “Oh I am sure none of your servants are, Fürst von Fassbender. But the man we are hunting is not from here, he is an Englishman. A spy.”  
  
“Still they must have mislead you, because there is no English thieve or spy here either.”  
  
“Then you will not object if we search your estate, Fürst.” Maraval’s gaze became an unyielding glare.  
  
Michael smiled though his eyes stayed cold and his words held an edge. “But of course I object, this is my land. My word is enough. I do not harbour thieves!”  
  
The French captain seemed ready to disagree, but then he turned back to his men. For a moment he looked like he was going to call a retreat, then he just made a short gesture with his hand. The man holding the dogs on their leashes dropped those. The animals rushed forward, swarming over the steps, sniffing intently at the ground, the door and Michael. One butted against his hand and started to bark excitedly, while the others whined and scratched at the door.  
  
Maraval smiled too. The expression came off more like a wolf snarling. “I regret to find that your word cannot be trusted - Fürst.”  
  
Before Michael could move, some ten carbines were pointed at him.  
  
“You dare threaten me?!” Michael hissed.  
  
“Should I be wrong, I will make sure you get a formal apology by his Majesty Napoleon himself.” Maraval got down his horse, then he turned to his men. "Laffont, Baraton, fouillez les étables, vous cinq, emmenez les chiens pour inspecter l'intérieur. Sergeant Nouaille, faites le tour avec trois hommes et assurez vous que personne ne cherche à s'échapper."  
  
Two men broke away from the group, riding around the estate, heading in the direction of the outhouses and the stables. Five, among them the one in charge of the dogs, dismounted and rushed up the stairs, taking no heed of Michael. Ferdinand, who still stood by the door, was just pushed asied. The eager sniffing dogs were in first and the soldiers followed.  
  
Michael looked after them, gritting his teeth. His hand slipped into his pocket and his fingers touched the cool, sharp metal, yet he hesitated. With the French split up like that, it would be hard to take them out at once. He had to make sure that they didn’t realise that he was behind it. He tried to catch Ferdinand’s eyes. If his valet could cover for his sudden strange behaviour and make sure tehy didn’t see his eyes turn white, that should buy him enough time to kill the soldiers here outside first, then the ones searching the house. The Hussars that just left were the biggest problem, he couldn’t risk them being alarmed by screams, then come back and maybe shoot him. Before he had a firm grasp on his plan, Michael was forcibly yanked around. He found himself eye to eye with the French Colonel. “You are not worried, are you? I thought you said you were not harbouring thieves."  
  
Michael had to fight down the urge to grab the dagger in his pocket and just push it into the man’s stomach. _Kill him!_ That would accomplish nothing. They would probably just shoot him on the spot.  
  
“I am worried that your dogs will get my carpets dirty with their grubby paws and useless sniffing about.” Michael didn’t hold back the rage from his voice now. It didn’t matter, as soon as they found James, he had to act. He hoped they would bring him out, then try to find out where the documents were. As long as they didn’t know their location, James would be safe. That should buy him the time he needed. He could take out the ones outside, make sure James was safe, then go after those that stayed inside. The ones sent away would hopefully be far enough gone, that they wouldn’t pose an immediate threat.  
  
Maraval eyed him from up close, his gaze slipped down suddenly. For a short moment there was a frown visible on the man’s face, then suddenly he grabbed Michael’s arm and yanked it up. Michael let go of the dagger just in time, so it wasn’t pulled out of his pocket with his hand. But it made no difference. Maraval just reached into his pocket, fishing out the dagger. For a moment he looked disappointed. Michael realised the man had probably thought that he had the documents on himself?  
  
Michael wanted to reach for the dagger but Maraval pushed him back. “What would you have done with this? Taken on me and my men?”  
  
The taunting voice rang in Michael’s ears. _Kill him, kill him!_ He felt ready to just jump the man.  
  
There was the banging of doors coming from inside and he heard someone scream. Not James. What was happening inside, did Jams hide? Michael turned and wanted to go for the door.  
The click of a pistol close by his head made him stop. Slowly he turned around again, his heart was hammering in his chest. Maraval had one of his pistols pointed at his head. “You will stop right there. Don’t underestimate the situation you are in – Fürst von Fassbender. If you harbour the thieve, you are as guilty as him! But I might be lenient and show mercy towards you and your people, if you co-operate.”  
  
Michael’s thoughts raced. It wouldn’t do if he got shot now. But without the dagger, he could do nothing. He needed the pain to release the demonic powers. Could he make Maraval shoot him so he was only wounded, and in pain. He would need to grab the pistol, pull it down so it pointed – where? The chance of getting hit in the neck or chest were to big and even if he managed to pull it down to his stomach; how quickly would that kill him. Was that a wound too grave, would that make him heal himself, fight for survival and not fight back and kill the French like he intended. His thoughts were a jumbled mess, now that he needed to keep a clear head. His whole body had grown rigid and tense, but he tried to give an outward appearance of co-operation. Though it was hard, he lowered his gaze like in defeat. Maraval stepped back and ordered one of his soldiers over. The man planted himself in front of him and pointed his weapon right at him.  
  
The door opened, one of the soldiers came out, pulling Katharina by her hand. He pushed her onto the porch where she stumbled. Ferdinand was right by her side, helping and steadying her. Michael turned his head to look at them, but didn’t dare to move otherwise.  
  
He couldn’t remember feeling that helpless before. Waves of hot and cold rushed alternately through his body. The impotence made him ball his hands into fists, wishing for claws to dig into his hands so he could let the demon take over and make the soldiers pay.  
  
"Mon Capitaine, les chiens ont trouvé une piste mais l'Anglais n'était pas dans la pièce où elle menait. Il n'y avait qu'elle, mais elle refermait la fenêtre au moment où nous sommes entrés. Guerin  et Nouailles sont partis avec les chiens pour chercher dans les jardins. Les autres continuent de fouiller le reste du bâtiment, au cas où."  
  
The soldiers report caught Michael’s attention. The dogs had led them to his bedroom, but all they had found was the servant-girl who had just been closing the window there. Had James been able to flee through the window into the garden at the back? But without the horse, how far could he get, and in his condition. Perhaps he managed to sneak round to the stables, yet two of the soldiers were there. He tried to keep stock of everyone’s position. He didn’t know yet how to attack, but if an opportunity presented itself, he needed to know where to strike.  
  
He eyed the Hussar keeping him in check. He was young. He had to make sure the soldier didn’t panic and kill him before he could make his move.  
  
Michael’s gaze fell on the sabre hanging from the captain’s side. He had to try and get the man to draw that on him. The tip would easily sink into his flesh.  
  
 If only he knew James was safe, he might take a risk. The suspense, not knowing, having to wait, it was driving him crazy.  
  
There was another commotion, this time coming from the side of the mansion and Michael felt another rush of tension rising up from his stomach. One of the French soldiers sent to the stables came back. "Nous avons trouvé le cheval! Ils ont essayé de nous le cacher, ils l'ont bouchonné, mais j'ai reconnu la blessure à la jambe arrière. Et il est encore essoufflé."  
  
Maraval turned toward Michael, smirking. “Well Fürst, how do you plan to explain the thieves horse in your stable?”  
  
“I don’t have to explain myself to you!”  
  
Maraval snorted. “No. You don’t have to explain. It is already very clear that you helped him. I wonder why? Did you plan to stand against the French army – alone? Or do you really count on some help from an alliance with the English with your little isolated principality. I don’t think you have anything to offer, for which the English would dispatch even one soldier to your aid. You are a fool not to cooperate with the French Empire like your fellow German Princes.”  
  
“I only gave shelter to an English diplomat, you asked me after a thieve and spy!” Michael snarled.  
  
Maraval gave a humourless chuckle. “It doesn’t matter. We will catch him. And then we will find out where he hid what he has stolen.” The captain’s gaze narrowed. Michael tried to not give anything away on his face. He concentrated on the rage he felt. He wanted to snarl at Maraval. If he so much as touched James, he would tear him apart with his bare hands.  
  
The sound of dogs, barking and yipping was clearly audible from behind the estate and was coming closer. Michael blanched, his hands were shaking. They were back quickly. That could only mean... His gaze was drawn to the corner of the mansion. It didn’t take long for the smaller party of Hussars who had been sent to the gardens, to ride around the mansion and into the courtyard again. The one addressed as Sergant Nouaille had a limp body in front of him hanging over his horse.  
  
Michael felt like a cold hand squeezed his heart. “No...” the word escaped before he could stop himself. ‘Don’t be dead. Please, no. This can’t...’ He should have done something. He should have acted faster, not waited for the French to go after James! His gaze was fixed on him. James’ body was jostled by every move the horse made, but he seemed to just hang their - lifeless. Michael couldn’t see his face and the dark filthy coat made it hard to determine any blood or wounds.  
  
All the while Maraval’s glare didn’t leave Michael’s face. Only as the Hussar’s came to a halt he finally  turned and went to greet Nouaille. "Il semblerait que nous ayons finalement attrapé le voleur."  
  
"Oui, Capitaine". Nouaille grabbed the prone body slung over his horse by the collar of his coat and heaved him off. On Maraval’s nod another soldier came to help.  
  
James’ face was covered in blood, that streamed from his nose and split lip. Another bleeding gash was on his forehead. As his feet touched the ground he groaned. He didn’t open his eyes, but his body tensed and he didn’t just fall forward but sank swaying to his knees.  
  
Michael felt a flood of relieve that was quickly replaced by a hot wave of anger. With a growl he wanted to run over but the soldier guarding him moved quickly into his way. With a practised move he hit him with the back of his carbine in the shoulder. Michael stumbled back by the force of the blow and made to rush forward but the young soldier pointed the gun barrel right at his chest. Michael stopped, feeling helpless and enraged. His blood  pounding in his ears was like a rushing storm that carried a hissing voice with it. They would pay, they all would pay for this!  
  
With a long look at Michael, Maraval moved around James, making sure Michael could see well and clear as he suddenly kicked James in the ribs. James groaned in pain and doubled over.  
 _  
Tear him apart!_ The hissing became more clear and defined in Michael’s ears and he didn’t notice that he himself was growling.  
  
“Most interesting.” Maraval ordered two of the soldiers to hold James, whose face was still twisted up in pain. "Avez-vous trouvé les documents?"  
  
"Non, Capitaine. Nous l'avons fouillé mais il ne les avait pas sur lui."  
  
“So the documents are still here. In the mansion somewhere. Did you hide them?” Maraval’s calculating gaze switched between Michael and James. Suddenly he drew his sabre, pointed it at James’ throat, but looked at Michael. “Tell me were they are!”  
  
Michael’s throat felt tight. If he told them, if they had them, they would kill James. He needed more time. “I do not know!” Slow panic rose. The sabre had to be pointed at him, not James. He needed to get him close, or get close. His gaze flitted to his guard who seemed determined to not let him move.  
  
“Hm.” The Colonel grabbed James head and pulled it back. James face twisted up in pain. Maraval crouched down beside James, still leaving a clear line of sight between James and Michael. He leant closer and spoke something into James ear. Michael didn’t hear what was said, but he saw how James’ pressed his lips together, how his gaze searched his. The look he gave him a mix of anguish and despair.  
  
Suddenly the Colonel let go of James head and took the dagger he had taken from Michael before. He looked intently at the blade then held it up in front of James’ face. Michael saw James eyes widen as he focused on the shining metal, his breath grew ragged. Maraval traced the flat part of the blade along James’ bloodied face. Slowly he twisted the dagger, so the sharp blade pressed against James’ flesh.  
  
Michael just couldn’t watch. “No! Stop!” He saw the triumphant smirk on Maraval’s face, who dug the blade just a little more into James’ flesh, enough to draw blood. With a snarl Michael grabbed the Hussar’s carbine, throwing his full weight against him, to push the weapon up and out of the way. But another soldier sprang to his help, hitting him with the butt of his weapon in the stomach. Michael fell back, his back hitting the steps hard. There was pain. Michael grasped desperately for it, but it wasn’t enough. He realised the Hussar made to hit him in the face with his weapon. Panic seized him. If he knocked him out, there was nothing he could do!  
  
“Stop!” Maraval’s voice rang commanding over the courtyard and everyone froze. Except the Sergeant. He moved quickly over to were Michael had fallen, commanding the two other Hussars back and pointed his sabre at him. Michael’s gaze focused on the straight blade that was sharpened at both sides at the tip. The gleaming metal was perfect.  
For a moment he looked past the blade, to where James was still kneeling on the ground, still held in place by two soldiers. His blue eyes were widened in pain and desperation. Maraval had stood up, no longer holding the dagger close to James’ face.  
  
Michael wanted to smile. Instead he braced himself with one arm on the stairs, took a deep breath, then quickly grabbed for the sabre, and pushed himself up. Nouaille gave a startled gasp, but then quickly twisted the sabre and pushed forward. The blade slipped easily through cloth and bit into Michael’s shoulder. For a moment he didn’t feel anything, then the pain hit him sharply and the smell of blood filled his nostrils.  
  
He heard high pitched laughter, that quickly mixed with the roaring scream for vengeance in his ears.  
  
 _Kill, kill, killkillkill! Tear apart!_  
  
The screaming was painful and sweet, his body grew distant.  
“Quick! Kill them quick!” Michael choked out before he lost control completely.  
  
For a moment he saw them all from above, each soldier standing there, looks of surprise or confusion on their face. Then he crashed down on them like a wave.  
  
The screams echoed over the courtyard, mixed with the scared neighs and snorts of panicking horses. The dogs whined in confusion before their ribcages were crushed. There was blood, the snap of bones, the terrified screams. It all sounded sweet, but he didn’t indulge, didn’t linger but killed them with quick efficiency, before anyone had time to react or realise what was happening.  
  
There was a commotion at the front door; some more soldiers poured out onto the porch. Before they could raise their weapons they crumbled to the ground, their throats crushed. He swept the courtyard for life, two cowering figures at the wall caught his attention. He hovered there for a moment, drunk with delicious feeling of killing and dissatisfied with how quick he had to do it. But no. Those two were his. He widened his gaze. The stables, there still should be some at the stable. He intercepted the two soldiers who had been alerted by the screams. He reached out his claws and let them run straight into them. Blood welled from open mouths, faces twisted up in shock. The sticky red liquid gushed warmly around his hands, as his invisible claws wrapped around beating hearts and he squeezed, slowly, feeling the warm blood pour between his fingers and the frantic beating grow weaker and weaker in his hands until he just crushed it with one final move. The two soldiers fell to the ground, dead.  
  
He felt elated, giddy and reluctant to return. But there were no more enemies to kill and – James. He had to make sure he was alright.  
  
He found him slumped forward among the dead broken soldiers. For a moment panic seized him. Careful he touched. Felt for the pain. Shoulder, face, there were ribs cracked. He smoothed the cracks, gently, coaxing crushed blood-vessels back, straightening them, repairing... So tedious work.  
  
Suddenly he felt like he was falling backwards, hitting his body hard. His shoulder was aflame. Dizziness and nausea pulled him back. He became aware that he was kneeling on the stairs, the Sergeant dead, crumbled on the stairs in front of him. The man’s hands were still curled around his sabre, the blade smeared with blood. He stared at him from dead eyes, and Michael realised the man’s head was facing the wrong direction.  
  
Slowly the fire in his shoulder subsided, dimmed. Michael felt his body relax. His heartbeat slowed down to normal and with it his senses rightened themselves; everything swung back, time passing at it’s right speed again. He tried to breath evenly, to not be sick. He had to get over to James. Slowly Michael pushed himself to his feet, gaze searching for James. Swaying slightly he took a step forward, then everything went black.  
###  
tbc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Michael refusing to speak French and the way he apologises for it by feigning he has a sore throat, is based on a real incident of a German prince excusing himself to some French diplomats.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the middle of the night the world seems all right now, but with daylight reality comes crashing in. A whole Hussar Squadron is dead. Sure there will be consequences. Lots of serious talk in this chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, was experiencing some sort of emotional down last week and just couldn’t get myself to write. All fine now. :)  
> Warnings: Sort of cliff-hanger ending for this chapter too, bit angsty

Slowly Michael opened his eyes. The first thing he noticed was, that it was dark. Had it not been afternoon mere moments ago?  
  
He blinked sluggishly and tried to move his head. It felt heavy and with the movement came the dull pulsing pain of a headache. He closed his eyes again, trying to relax and will the pain away.  
  
Pain, there was something he should remember. Michael moved his right arm, brought his hand up to his left shoulder. The skin felt smooth, if tender to touch, like a bruise. His fingertips lingered there, poking gently.  
  
Suddenly his eyes flew open and he struggled to sit up. Memories of what had happened came back, sharp and clear. The blanket slid down his naked chest. He was in his bed, his bedroom, all was quiet. But that wasn’t right, was it. He looked around, heart pounding. Everything sort of tilted sideways and he reached up, gripping his head, that had answered his carelessness with an insistent stab of pain.  
  
Where was James? Where was everybody? Why was he in his bedroom - alone?  
  
The arm he braced himself on started shaking. Michael struggled to pull himself to the edge of the bed, the blanket getting tangled with his legs. He growled in frustration, though it sounded more like a pathetic whimper to his own ears. Why the hell was he feeling so weak?  
  
Twenty.  
  
He had killed twenty soldiers and the dogs. He remembered being quick and efficient about it, though that had been hardly satisfactory. It hadn’t felt hard though. Despite their number. Rather it had been over too quick, and he would have loved to go on and on, venting the rage he had felt about what they had done to James. He remembered James’ body, all the cuts, bruised flesh, down to the minuteous wounds. And the pain, that was not in his body, but in his eyes as Maraval had pressed Michael’s own dagger against James’ face and whispered something in James’ ear.  
  
Michael tried to remember how it had felt to kill the Captain. He squeezed his eyes shut. Had he broken his neck? Stopped his heart? His fingers dug into the matters, as he willed himself to come up with something, anything of what had happened to the man. But nothing. Michael remembered some of the other soldiers, even their faces as they died, but not him. For a disconcerting moment Michael wasn’t sure if the man hadn’t escaped.  
  
But he had checked, he had looked and there had been noone left alive, except his servants and James.  
  
But where was James now?  
  
Slowly he slid his legs out of the bed, taking half the blanket with them. He planted his feet firmly on the ground. The soft carpet felt cool under his soles. Some deep breaths later he was sitting upright on the edge of the bed, his head not complaining any more now, than by a constant but only dull pain. He could deal with that. So all that was left to do was get up. Still staying seated he shifted to the foot of the bed, where he could grasp one of the bedposts. Taking his time he pulled himself to his feet. There was a short moment when he felt a little unsteady, but that passed quickly. Nevertheless he opted for taking small, slow steps. He locating his dressing gown on the chair close by, where it always was placed for him by Ferdinand, and slipped it on.  
  
After he had tightened the belt closing it in front, he made his way to the door. The simple action made it clear to him that he was still exhausted, but he was certain too, that he wouldn’t get back to sleep before he didn’t know that James was alright. Safe.  
  
First he found Ferdinand though. The man had fallen asleep on the ground beside the couch in the salon. It didn’t look comfortable the way he lay there. Michael thought about waking him. He didn’t have any energy left to spare for an argument with Ferdinand should he insist and – try – to send him back to bed, like a small boy. So he just took the candelabra from the mantelpiece, lit the candles with one of the matches lying there, then left for the stairs and the upstairs room that had last been used by James.  
  
Halfway up the stairs he had to pause., leaning against the wall and closing his eyes for a moment. He remembered the courtyard, full of dead bodies, horses running spooked between them. What a mess. He rubbed over his forehead. He had to think of a way to hide the bodies. But a whole squadron gone missing. There would be someone to come looking. Where had they been seen last and would they be traced onto his lands? What about his servants? How much had they seen, when was it - yesterday? He guessed that not more time had passed. He really didn’t want to contemplate all that now. Not alone. He pushed himself away from the wall and took the rest of the stairs.  
  
Michael opened the door to the guest room without knocking. If James was there he was probably asleep and he shouldn’t wake him. He just wanted to make sure he was all right.  
  
He hadn’t realised how tense he was until he saw James, resting in the big bed. Slowly he relaxed. James was real, he was here, he was his. Michael walked closer. He noted someone had left a glass of water on the bedside table, as he put the candelabra there. Carefully he sat down at the edge of the bed, studying James’ bruised face. Strands of hair were sticking to his face and Michael reached out to brush it away, noting that the hair was still wet.  
  
James whimpered softly and Michael drew his hand back, frowning. He hadn’t accidentally touched a cut or bruise, had he? Michael took in the damage. There was a shallow gash on James’ forehead, the wound looked clean. A bruise on James cheek rivalled with the shadows under James’ eyes, and his mouth was scabbed. He remembered the cracked ribs, how James had been kicked in the stomach. Lips pressed tightly together Michael pulled the blanket down somewhat, revealing James’ naked upper body. Over the left side of his ribs was a big purple bruise that already was going yellow and brown at the edges. Michael remembered trying to heal it but then – passing out. He must have still been able to do some good though.  
  
A shudder ran through James’ body. Michael looked up and James was looking at him, eyes half cracked open. “Am I dreaming?”  
  
Michael shook his head and pulled the blanket back up to cover James. “No.” He didn’t exactly know what to say. He wanted to kiss James but his mouth looked like that would hurt.  
  
James sighed and winced as he took a deep breath. “Yes. Hurts too much to be a dream.”  
  
“I’m sorry I woke you, I just wanted to see... Are you all right? Apart from...” He made a gesture towards James’ face.  
  
“Tired, my face hurts and I must look like hell. Thought I broke some ribs, but they seem alright. At least breathing doesn’t hurt.”  
  
So he had been right about the ribs. Good. “I should have stopped them. Before... “  
  
James smiled, almost laughed but then his split lip put a stop to that. He frowned and reached up his hand to touch the scabbed part, irritated. Pulling his fingers away again he looked at them, stained red with his own blood from where the movement had made the scabbing crack. “You did stop them.” James looked at Michael. “It was scary...”    
  
Michael felt himself tense.  
  
“...and beautiful. I was so glad to see them die. I thought they would kill you. The Captain, he said, and for a moment, when that Sergeant stabbed you.”  
  
“I tried to be quick, I just wish...” With James face turned towards him he could see a little cut on James cheek which Maraval must have made. The bastard. “I wish I hadn’t been quick with the Captain. But I can’t even remember killing him.”  
  
“You didn’t. I did.”  
  
Michael was startled by the off hand confession. After the French had dragged James’ back, he had looked more dead than alive. Not like someone who still had enough fight in him to stab a French Captain armed to his teeth. He had believed the French would be to surprised so James would be out of any immediate danger from them. “Why, what made you...?” He shook his head, slowly though. “No, not why. But... “ It was hard to put the surprise and worry he felt in words.  
  
“He must have realised you were the cause for suddenly all his men falling over dead. He dropped your dagger and drew his pistol, aiming to shoot you. The two soldiers holding me were already dead so I just grabbed the dagger and stabbed him in the neck. Surprised him.”  
  
Despite having been denied the pleasure of killing the man himself Michael was glad. Glad James had been able to do it. “Pity – I would have liked to see the look of surprise on that arrogant bastards face.”  
  
A ghost of a smile showed on James face. “You calling someone arrogant... that doesn’t sound right.”  
  
Michael frowned, not quite getting what James meant but too tired to inquire about it. He wanted, well all he wanted now was to lie down next to him, but he hesitated. He knew he wanted to, but what about James. Did he still. After all – he had come back, but he hadn’t heard of him for more than a month before that. Frowning he searched James’ face for answers.  
  
“I’m sorry. Do you hate me?” James words startled Michael.  
  
“Hate you? What makes you think?”  
  
“Giving you all that trouble. Almost getting you killed, bringing your estate, your people in jeopardy. You still are. They will come looking for the missing squadron.” James closed his eyes and shook his head as if only now realising. “What have I done. I probably destroyed your life.”  
  
“You forget, my LIFE was over some twenty years ago.” He realised that wasn’t really valid but he was too exhausted for a proper argument. Did James’ really believe he could hate him?  
  
James shook his head and reached out, touching his fingers to Michael’s chest, just the lightest of touches and Michael was barely able to feel it through the dressing gown. How much he wanted those fingers against his naked skin. “No, that’s you, all of it. The human, the demon, both.”  
  
Michael gave in and caught James’ hand, pulling it against his chest, holding the warm hand in his. “I’m glad you came back. It was my decision to help you and my responsibility to think of the consequences.”  
  
James gave him a quirky smile. “And did you? Weigh all the consequences and then decide wisely?”  
  
“No. I saw them hurt you and I wanted to tear them apart.” Idly Michael had started caressing the inside of James’ arm.  
  
“So it is my fault.” James closed his eyes. “I shouldn’t have...” Michael reached out and put his hand across James mouth. Startled James’ eyes flew open again.  
  
“I have acted rashly. I don’t regret it.” He pulled back his hand only to take James’ arm, cradling it in his hands and pulling it up to brush his lips against the soft warm skin at the inside of James’ arm. “I don’t regret any of it. Except...”  
  
“There is always a but, isn’t there.” James looked worried.  
  
Michael sighed. “Except that I let you go.”  
  
“That” James sighed. “- you couldn’t have stopped me. I still can’t stay.” James words hung heavy in the dark room.  
  
It didn’t help that Michael knew he was right. For one it wouldn’t be possible to hide James and for another James would want to bring the stolen documents to his government. He would not want his efforts to have been in vain. Michael didn’t like it and still he admired James for his determination and his stubbornness. For a moment he closed his eyes. “I know.” He pulled James’ hand up to his face. James cupped his cheek, his hand feeling callused and warm. Michael started kissing the palm, up to James’ fingers. James thumb brushed against his lips and he sucked at it. “Mind if I get into bed with you.”  
  
James’ hand went limp and he sighed. “Michael.. I’m not...”  
  
“I don’t mean to have sex with you. I’m tired too. But I sleep better when I know where you are.”  
  
“Then... gladly.” James moved to make some space for Michael, who got up to blow out the candles then got out of his dressing gown and let it slip to the ground. He sat back on the bed and got under the blankets next to James. He turned towards him, looking at the man in the darkness until his eyes adjusted enough that he could make out his head against the pillow and then more of his face. James had closed his eyes and by his even and slow breathing, it seemed like he had fallen asleep again.  
  
Michael reached out a hand, touching James’ shoulder. The other man didn’t stir.  
  
“One more thing I regret,” Michael spoke softly so not to wake James, “– not following you.”  
  
+++  
  
Next morning James woke as it was already bright day outside. He sat up slowly, looked around the room and felt – disappointed. Michael was no longer there. James touched the spot in bed next to himself. For a moment he had the urge to just curl up and go right back to sleep, ignoring everything. But it wasn’t that easy. His face hurt, as did his body when he moved, though it wasn’t as bad as yesterday. His bottom lip seemed to be the worst of. He was hard pressed to resist the urge to lick his lips, since even that tentative touch and movement hurt. Frowning was out of the question too, thanks to the gash on his forehead.  
  
James pulled the blanket down and examined his body. He looked – colourful, to put it nicely. Bruises, from dark purple to yellowish green, adorned his body. Worst was one as big as his hand, covering his ribs. James remembered being kicked in the ribs by the soldiers catching up with him in the garden. It had hurt like hell and being slung over the horse and brought back like a sack of grain, he had only been able to try and keep breathing and not pass out from the pain. He had been sure his ribs were broken or cracked at the least. Now the bruise seemed to be the sole reminder of that encounter and it looked days old, not like it had been inflicted yesterday. James touched it gently and smiled. That must have been Michael’s doing.  
  
He remembered, after stabbing the cursed Captain, he had stumbled back and fell over one of the dead bodies. Everything went black for a moment and he was in pain as he came back to. There were screams, pained yelps from the dogs and then – silence - like someone sucked in the breath of everyone in the courtyard, human and animals alike – it was eerie. He had tried to sit up, but his ribs seemed on fire.  
  
The next thing he knew was that the servant girl tried to help him sit up and he saw Ferdinand bend over Michael. In that moment he had completely forgotten about his ribs but they must have stopped hurting. James had been yelling at Ferdinand in panic and frustration, before realising he did so in English. He switched to German then and finally got an answer, as to if Michael was all right. Just passed out, it seemed. So he had contented himself in letting the servants take over. The next morning would come soon enough.  
  
Way to soon. With a groan he crawled to the edge of the bed and slipped out. It took him longer than usual to clean up and get dressed, not solely because of how sore and bruised he felt. After a week on the road made him appreciated the small luxuries of soap and clean (even if cold) water and clean clothes (even if too big for him) the more. Despite having had a hot bath yesterday he took his time washing his face and hands, noting some dirt from the road still clinging to under his fingernails.  
  
Wearing Michael’s clothes reminded him of the first days of his stay here. That was, almost three months ago now. But it was less the time that had passed that made him pause, but all that had happened. His diplomatic mission had failed. He had become a fugitive – thieve and spy. He had learned that demons truly existed, that they had powers one could well describe as magic ... which did not stop them in using very mortal means of seduction.  
  
James heart started to beat faster and his mind seemed intent on focusing on the fact that Michael had spent last night in his bed, naked, beside him and he had been too weary to do anything – at all. He had in fact fallen asleep right as Michael had climbed into bed with him.  
  
James shook his head. He really had more important things to think about than all the things he hadn’t done to Michael last night but wanted badly to do.  
  
No wonder the church preached against demons. They made you lose your mind... and heart. James felt his face flush at the thought and quickly headed for the door. He was thinking way to much.  
  
On his way downstairs he could already hear shouts coming from the courtyard outside. Worried he made his way to one of the big windows of the entrance hall and peered outside. Despite having been right there the other day, he wasn’t quite prepared for the sight that greeted him. The courtyard was strewn with fallen bodies, humans, dogs and even one of the horses. It took James some time to realise what was so strange about it all. There was no blood to be seen anywhere. Not on the ground, not on the dead bodies, like one would expect on a battlefield.  
  
Three male servants were busy picking up the corpses and loading them onto a cart. Ferdinand was there too, co-ordinating the efforts. What were they doing with the bodies, uniforms, weapons? When someone came looking for the missing squadron, how could they not stumble onto some trace of them? The horses alone, how to hide twenty... nineteen horses, all branded. He buried one hand in his hair, trying hard not to frown which only hurt and helped not at all to concentrate.  
  
He completely missed as someone approached and gave a startled yelp as suddenly hands touched his shoulders and turned him around. He looked up into Michael’s face. Grey eyes were observing him intently.  
  
“Michael... Good morning.”  
  
Michael didn’t say anything. He just lifted his hands from James’ shoulders to cup James’ face.  
  
“Michael, what?”  
  
Michael leant closer, placing his forehead against his, gently. James felt goosebumps rise all over his body. Gently Michael’s thumbs traced his cheeks. James closed his eyes, just concentrating on the feeling and listening to Michael’s deep breaths. Slowly he relaxed.  
  
“Just making sure...”  
  
‘Making sure of what?’ but James refrained from asking. Instead he put one hand on Michael’s shoulder, his fingers moved to touch Michael’s neck and his thumb brushed along his collarbone, then curled around the hem of Michael’s shirt. Before he could act on the impulse to just tug on the shirt some more Michael let go of his face and took a little step back. James withdrew his hand. “Is everything all right? I mean, under the circumstances.”  
  
Michael nodded, though the grim expression he showed indicated something else. James tilted his head to one side, raising a questing eyebrow. Michael sighed and rubbed one hand over his face. “Some of the servants. They left.”  
  
“What? Why... because...” James was startled by the revelation. He looked in the direction of the courtyard.  
  
Michael nodded. “Apparently suspecting what I am, is something else than seeing what I can do.” Michael stepped to the window and pulled back the curtains, looking out at the clearing work in the courtyard. “Some saw what happened from the windows, the rest saw the dead soldiers afterwards and heard what happened.”  
  
James felt slightly sick, knowing he was the cause for it all. If it weren’t for him, none of that would have happened. He looked at Michael’s back. He reached out, put his hand on Michael’s shoulder but drew it back immediately. He hadn’t quite realised the extent of the trouble his actions would cause as he decided to come here. What could he do, what could he say, really, that made a difference. But he had to say something. “Michael. I am sorry, I know this is my fault, I shouldn’t have...”  
  
“Stop! Stop apologising.”  
  
James gritted his teeth. What else could he do? Leave Michael alone? But Michael had come to his bed last night, he had come to him just now. “What will you do with all the bodies?”  
  
“They will take them to the ruins and dump them down the cliff. I’ll go there tomorrow and make sure it looks like a landslide.”  
  
“You think that will convince whoever will come looking for the missing squadron? You will have to get the horses that are still alive there too, so it won’t rouse suspicion. It’s a waste, but otherwise, they will wonder.” James felt pity for the doomed animals, but there didn’t seem to be another way, if Michael wanted to make it look like an accident.  
  
“Some ran away in the chaos. I killed that one accidentally, they weren’t a threat, unlike the dogs. Anyway I can’t be certain that one of the servants that left wont be too scared and talk. And even if they have no love for the French, but if they come, threaten them... I feel it will be a lot easier to give up the demon than their own lives.”  
  
James hung his head. He felt hard pressed not to start apologising - again. ”But – will the French believe such a story, about a demon killing twenty of their men single handed. It’s not a story I would have believed if I didn’t know you. I would have thought it some wild tale; people being superstitious or simply not liking their Lord for whatever reasons and making up strange tales.”  
  
“And still it will point them straight at me. Even if they wont believe the tale, they will be looking for a scapegoat for their lost squadron, be it by a landslide or some mystic powers. And the Kurfürst will back them up, since it’s a chance to finally seize my lands, without having to orchestrate a marriage with one of his relatives at that.” Michael’s voice was tight.  
  
“There has to be something, some way out of this mess I made”  
  
“I told you to stop that!”  
  
“You told me to stop apologising. I know it doesn’t make any difference, it doesn’t make anything better, but I want you to know that I feel responsible for this. And if there is any way I can help.”  
  
Michael balled his hands to fists. James saw how he was trembling. He understood that Michael was angry, but why didn’t he want him to apologise. Unless, if he didn’t want to forgive him. But then why had he... or was that the problem? That he was angry at him and at the same time wanted him?  
  
“Didn’t you listen to what I said last night? It was my decision, my responsibility.”  
  
“I know what you said, but I still feel guilty. I led them to you. They chased me because I took the risk and stole those documents. I failed to shake them of. You have every right to be angry at me.”  
  
“Stop, just...” Suddenly Michael turned round, his gaze almost a glare. “So you feel guilty. Would you stay, if I asked you to?”  
  
James felt hard pressed not to back away. “I think that would only make it worse.”  
  
“Don’t tell me what you think might happen or not, just give me an honest answer. Would you stay?”  
  
James pressed his lips together. He almost welcomed the pain his split lip made him feel. “Don’t ask that of me. You know I can’t.” Unconsciously he shook his head. “I owe you my life – for the second time now, I am fully aware of that. But that does not mean that you own me. I will do everything I can to help you – and not because I owe you, but because...” _Because I don’t want to leave you, because for a moment there the French Captain made me think he would kill you and I would loose you, because it IS my fault that now your life is in danger and I can’t stand the thought of you getting killed. Because I need to keep you safe. No matter what._ “I want to.” He looked into Michael’s eyes that now were searching his. He felt that, whatever it was that had the other man on edge, he had finally found the right words to get through to him.  
  
James was beginning to feel strained and a little lightheaded though. He was so close to just give Michael all his reasons and then back Michael against the wall, kiss him – split lip be damned – and just forget about everything else. He coughed. “Perhaps we can talk later. I have just got up after all and it’s been days since I had anything proper to eat.”  
  
Michael’s expression softened. “I’m sorry, I should have thought about that. I told them not to put the breakfast away until you had eaten.”  
  
James nodded. “Thank you.” He turned to leave.  
  
“James.” Michael’s soft tone made James stop, but he didn’t turn around. He waited for Michael to continuo.  
  
“There are some decisions I’ll have to make. I would appreciate your opinion on them. I’m sorry – about now. I...” Michael shook his head. “If you would just come to my study after breakfast.”  
  
“Of course.”  
  
“Thank you.”  
  
The words were all formal. James turned to say something more, but Michael had turned back towards the window, looking out. James stared at his back for a moment, before leaving for the dining room, not feeling hungry at all.

###

tbc


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James and Michael are in the study, on the floor– discussing politics! (and resolving the previous chapters UST and misunderstandings.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NC-17! More background of the Napoleonic wars. Still, just a work of fiction, so I took liberties and tweaked some of the facts!

James stopped at the door to Michael’s study. It was open, allowing him for a moment to just stand there unnoticed, looking in. Despite not feeling hungry his body had had other ideas at the sight of the breakfast laid out and he had taken his time to eat and try and get his thoughts in order. He had been on the run for a week. A week of having no time to waste, having to hurry, his thoughts spinning around ways to get away and not being found. Now he could relax, even if only for a while. The immediate threat had been taken care of, but he was still on the run. It wasn’t over yet. But now, right now, he was safe. And he would allow himself the time to find out what was wrong with Michael, why he had been so – unreasonable about the fact that James considered it his fault and wanted to apologise.  
  
Michael had his back to him. His black jacket hung over a chair and he wore only shirt and waistcoat. A map was spread out on the desk before him and he was intently studying it, long fingers tracing over the paper. He held a letter in the other hand, checking it time and again, then moving to look at another part of the map.  
  
The ground around the desk was strewn with maps and letters as well. Slowly James realised some of it were the documents and map he had ‘acquired’. Startled James noted a cravat on the ground amidst all the papers. Had Michael worn it before? James thought back and a slight smile tugged at his lips as he remembered. He had.  
  
James took a step into the room. He wanted to move up to Michael, wrap his arms around him and allow himself the luxury of just holding him for a moment. Taking the letter that had all his attention at the moment from his hands and twining his fingers with Michael’s. Maps, letters documents – the whole war be damned. But he stopped himself. He still had to figure out what Michael had been on about. Michael had got annoyed, no, angry, about James wanting to apologise, about him feeling guilty and yet he had tried to guilt him into staying. He had told Michael last night that he couldn’t, that he had to leave again. Though he didn’t want to leave Michael in danger. Knowing what would happen – he felt he couldn’t leave. Not this time. Even if Michael was going on about it being his responsibility, it wasn’t – not alone his. James worried. It felt like there threatened an awkward distance to form between them, when he really couldn’t see a reason for it. He took a deep breath. The sound alerted Michael and the man turned around. Grey eyes captured blue ones.  
  
James stood there for a moment, feeling caught staring. He opted for a small smile. “I see you are putting the documents I brought to good use. I must admit I only had time to look over them shortly and the maps, I practically took along on chance. Are they of any relevance?” He stepped up to the desk, beside Michael, trying to act casual and ignore this mornings awkward conversation.  
  
Michael frowned slightly, but then he nodded and turned back to the desk. “By the amount of effort they put into retrieving them, one would think so.”  
  
James gave him a sideways glance. “I was beginning to think that, even if I just stole the recipe for Napoleons favourite dish, they would have come chasing after me. As a matter of principle, you know.” The offhand remark made a ghost of a smile appear around Michael’s lips. It gave James some satisfaction.  
  
“You might as well call this a recipe, one for war. Napoleon is cooking up a huge dinner he does not intend to share, gobbling up the whole of Europe with all the colonies. Here.” He handed James the document he was just studying. “This one is the newest letter and clearly in reaction to the treaty of Britain with Russia to free Holland. Did you know about that? This points to an attempt to try and invade Britain. Napoleon seems to think it's now or never, before Britain can rally any more allies.”  
  
James took the document and read it carefully. “I was pretty much cut off and the last information I received were two letters, right after I left here.” He spoke absently. “When was that treaty signed. Ah... here it says, just some two weeks ago.” He scanned the date on the letter. That had indeed been fresh. The Kurfürst must have just received it right on the day James stole... liberated the documents. Some luck at last. “I have every confidence in the British Armada though. They will not allow a French invasion.”  
  
The huff Michael made seemed to indicate otherwise. “I wouldn’t be so sure. Napoleon seems a very capable commander of his troops still. And he manages to find out what is going on everywhere.” He tapped the letter in James hand with a finger. “Looks like he has spies even in Britain and Russia and he can react quickly. But there is more.” Michael looked around, searching, then bent down and picked up a letter that had slipped to the ground. “Here. Some intentions of what he plans for the German States are in this. Mentions of his plans to invade Italy too. That won’t sit well with the Austrian Emperor for sure.”  
  
James read that letter too, moving closer to the map on the desk, to check some of the more unfamiliar names of places mentioned. Michael stepped aside to give him access to the full spread of the map, that showed central Europe and the Italian states. James bent over it, searching for the region of Liguria that seemed to have caught Napoleons eye. With his foray into Italy he would force the Austrian Empire to act. They had quite a few territories there, plus the Austrian Emperor sure would find himself obliged to help out his aunt, the queen of Naples, a territory Napoleon also had an eye on. Suddenly James felt a warm hand on his shoulder. Michael had moved to his back, his warm body not quite pressing against his. Still he could feel one of Michael’s thighs brushing against his legs, when the other man shifted slightly. All he had to do was to straighten up and lean back. James mind seemed to find that a fact of more relevance than a French invasion, focusing on the important question, if Michael was doing this on purpose and if he was aware of how distracting he was.  
  
“Do you need another map? I have one of the Italian states only. But this one shows most of the areas mentioned in the letters and documents.”  
  
“No, not another map...” James finally shifted leaning back slightly, his body pumping against Michael’s, but then he stopped himself, resisting the urge to move against the other man, feeling it might not be welcome, despite Michael initiating the contact. Absently James ruffled his hair with one hand. Why was this suddenly feeling awkward? Last night it had been very clear to him what Michael wanted – still wanted. He just couldn’t understand Michael’s reaction this morning. Or had he imagined things last night. He had been tired. No, he had not imagined Michael taking his hand, kissing the inside of his arm and he sure had not imagined this mornings greeting, with Michael moving in close to him. Still James expected for Michael to move away now, but then realised he had stayed right where he was. James felt Michael’s hand at his shoulder tighten for a moment, then it moved to the small of his back.  
  
“Here look at the maps you brought.” Michael steered him toward a pile of paper on the ground. “I guess those, in the right hands, could really hurt the French.”  
  
For a moment James was toying with the idea of not moving. He wanted to turn around, grab Michael and demand answers. Reluctantly he dropped that thought though and went down on one knee in front of the maps spread out on the ground. He pulled them apart to get a better look, all the while distracted by Michael, who knelt down beside him and had put his hand on James’ shoulder again. So did that mean he was no longer angry? Was that some invitation or apology? James stared at the maps, not really getting what he was seeing or supposed to see on them. His gaze fell on the cravat that lay beside them. Michael had hated them - up to their bet. He reached out and touched the lace, then made as if to pull it out of the way, fingers lingering on the fabric.  
  
Slowly James turned towards Michael, gaze slipping down. How easy it would be to just straddle Michael’s lap and push him back. He could get him out of the waistcoat and shirt quick enough to run his hands over naked skin. He moved and had his hands already on Michael’s shoulders, mouth inches away from Michael’s face as he suddenly was held back. Michael had put his hands against his chest, stopping him from moving forward. James felt disappointed and a sound between a growl and a whine escaped his lips, much to his embarrassment.  
  
Michael looked at him. James could swear he looked tempted, as his gaze dropped to James’ mouth, like any moment he would just... “I’m sorry. About earlier. But I want to get some things straightened out before... I don’t want you to think you owe me - anything.”  
  
Frustration gnawed at James. “I do owe you.”  
  
“No!” There was it again that anger and vehemence. And it made James the more irate since he couldn’t understand or see any reason for Michael to react so.  
  
“Great. Fine. As you wish.” James moved away and turned towards the maps again, ignoring Michael as best he could. “What is it about the bloody maps you want to show me?” He heard Michael sigh, before he answered.  
  
“Theoretical plans on how to move the troops the quickest way in case they are needed in central Europe. Some routes are marked out here and here.” Michael reached out and tapped the map on several places. “These are for the Regiment stationed in Holland. Then we have these two routes leading from Hanover.”  
  
James stared at the map. Plans to redeploy whole regiments, this could only mean one thing. “So this war with the Austrian Empire, that probably is not only a ‘what if’ for Napoleon but looks like he has a perfect plan for it already. But he can’t just march his Regiments through Prussia.”  
  
“Unless he has something to bribe Prussia with.”  
  
“What would Prussia want... which lands.” James shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. Despite the documents and maps he was missing information to understand them completely. He had to get these documents along to those who could not only grasp the whole situation, but who also could act against the plans accordingly.  “I think Napoleon wont be able to move the whole regiment, despite what it says here. He will leave some parts of his army at the coast, or he is giving us an invite to stab him in the back. And he has proven that he isn’t that stupid.”  
  
“Nevertheless this should look threatening to the Austrian Emperor and his advisors.” Michael almost sounded smug.  
  
“I just wonder what these mean.” James tapped some markings on the map. They showed up in some German states and Bavaria. “Nothing that I’ve ever seen used on maps. Do you have a magnifying glass?”  
  
Michael stood up. As he came back he had a big magnifying glass on a wooden handle. He didn’t hand it to James though but put it onto another part of the map. “You should wonder more about this.” Michael’s voice was clipped. James lifted the glass and looked. His eyes widened as he made out Michael’s lands, that no longer were marked with borders of their own but simply were drawn as part of Baden. So it had been planned all along, as Michael had suspected, that the Kurfürst wanted his lands. And now James had given them the perfect reason for that move. _'It’s my fault, accept it Michael, damn you!'  
_  
“They already seem to think I no longer exist.” Michael took a deep forced breath.  
  
James shook his head. If they tried that with him, take his lands away. He would be – furious, no longer thinking straight probably. This map was a slap in the face. “I’d ride to Baden and punch the Kurfürst on the nose for joining in on this.”  
  
Michael huffed. “And make it easier for him to get rid of me? I’m not good at duels, unlike you.”  
  
James snorted. “Duelling pistols are crap. Skill doesn’t matter, when you have to shoot with them. Nerve does and I attest you have more nerve than his whole family.”  
  
Michael raised an eyebrow. “That’s why you seemed so happy that I had no duelling pistols.”  
  
James wanted to suck on his lower lip but was stopped by the pain that brought. “I’d beat you anyway.” He risked a sideways glance. “This what you thought I should know about? So I would feel less obliged to you?”  
  
“Yes. And I studied the maps and documents for some time this morning and  - let me make this clear. I don’t want you to feel you owe me or that you are obliged to me. Neither do you have to pity me for loosing my land. I plan on getting it back! But before that, I have other plans. Since I have found a lost diplomat on my lands, I should return him, don’t you think?”  
  
James frowned. Return him? No, that was not what he was thinking. Michael should do other things with him, though.  
  
“I looked the maps over. The direct route, going north from here, to get you back to Britain, is too uncertain. Alliances seem to be shifting in the German States, so we can’t be sure who is on which side.” Michael shook his head. “Also there are too heavy French forces up north, watching the Channel. So, my plan is to head for Ulm, get a ship down the Danube into Austrian territories and to Vienna.”  
  
Suddenly James sat up straighter. This was real? Michael had made plans for him on how to get back to Britain? Plans that might not involve desperate dashes into unknown territories to avoid French troops chasing him?  
  
“If you think you owe me, this will be my payment. You will come along to Vienna, we use part of these – your - documents as bribe, payment or however we deem fit in the negotiations to get the Austrian Emperor to return my confiscated ships to me.”  
  
 _'We?!'_ James' heartbeat picked up.  
  
“We can go to either Venice from there and use the ships to get you and the documents and maps to Britain or, if the way overseas is not safe at the time, we can try our luck with going north into Russia, since there now is an alliance between Russia and Britain I am sure they will be pleased to help a stranded English diplomat on his way. And they might have use for the documents too, perhaps even have means to get them to Britain faster.”  
  
James blinked. “We...” James swallowed. “But why would you come. You can’t stay here without risking your life, but I’m sure you could stay at court in Vienna, if you wanted to.” Why was he saying that? He WANTED Michael to come with him. Why was he questioning him instead of saying so?  
  
“In what position, a landless lord who has nothing to offer? I said I wanted my land back and I plan on putting my chances with my English diplomat and the British Isle.”  
  
James gritted his teeth. “I don’t quite get it.”  
  
“What?” Michael looked annoyed.  
  
“First you want to guilt me into staying, now you say in exchange you only want my help with getting your ships back. I do feel guilty about what my actions mean for you. I gave them a carte blanche to take your lands away.” James got up, swaying slightly at the sudden change in position. A week on the run was not so easily shaken off by a nights sleep and a breakfast.  
  
Michael moved forward and wrapped his arms around him, still kneeling. He opened his mouth to protest, but this time it was James who put his hand on Michael’s mouth. With his other hand he braced himself on Michael’s shoulder. “And I am worried about what will happen if you stay here. Not because I think it is my fault.”  
  
Michael frowned at that, but James just pressed his hand harder against Michael’s warm lips. “But because ... because that would mean I would loose you, and there wont be a way I could try and come back, see you again...” He moved his hand from Michael’s shoulder, burying it in Michael’s hair instead. Michael looked up at him. Relieved James noted that the grey eyes finally showed some understanding for what he meant to say. “That I feel responsible doesn’t change anything I would want to do for you anyway.” James swallowed, licked his lips, them feeling weird, dry and swollen, where they were still healing. Michel closed his eyes and James’ could feel Michael’s lips move against the palm of his hand. Slowly James relaxed, pulling back his hand till only his fingertips lingered against Michael’s mouth.  
  
Suddenly Michael pulled him closer and James had to brace himself against Michael’s shoulders so not to fall. “I think we both want the same thing, even if we take different approaches to explain it and end up misunderstanding each other. I want you to come with me. I appreciate any help you give me but it doesn’t have much to do with the things I want to do to you now and later. Things I’ve been thinking about since I left.”  
  
Michael pressed his face against James’ stomach. “I feel stupid for worrying that you would only feel obliged to me. But after not hearing from you, I started to think, you considered us finished since chances were low you couldn’t come back anyway.”  
  
James closed his eyes for a moment. Even through his shirt and waistcoat he could feel Michael’s warm face pressing against him. “Stupid of me. But there was too much to worry about. I’m sorry. But that’s not why I want to kiss you now.”  
  
“I think kissing you for the next days should be done careful, till your lip is healed... or you let me heal it, later. Now, I feel I have an apology to make.”  
  
James groaned. Inconvenient to get hit in the face. “Kissing would be a perfect apology.”  
  
“I can kiss you somewhere else.” Michael’s gaze was full of hot promise as his hands started undoing the buttons of James’ waistcoat (that really belonged to Michael anyway). James shiver in anticipation.  
  
“Cold?”  
  
James’ chuckle. “No, far from.”  
  
Michael moved his hands to the buttons on James trousers, undoing them quickly, then he pulled them down. His fingers dug hotly into James legs before he moved them up again, pushing the shirt up, revealing James’ thighs. The thin fabric brushed against James’ cock, making him catch his breath. Michael’s hands stopped at James’ hips, grasping them firmly and holding the bunched up shirt in place so it wouldn’t slip down again.  
  
For a moment James blushed, aware of standing here, half naked, in Michael’s study, with Michael kneeling in front of him. The last lingering feelings of embarrassment were quickly replaced by arousal as Michael moved forward, tongue lapping at James’ erection. James gave a sharp intake of breath and closed his eyes as Michael slid his mouth around his cock. He gave up thinking entirely.  
  
James felt dizzy as he came, all too quickly. He swayed and his knees gave way. Michael’s hands on his hips kept him from just toppling over. Instead he sank down on the ground, bracing himself on Michael’s shoulders. Not exactly graceful he let himself fall back onto the carpet, still panting heavily, skin flushed, smiling. Absently he noticed he tasted blood in his mouth. He licked his lips, finding his split lip was cracked open again.  
  
He couldn’t make himself move, but just lay there, amidst the documents, his trousers indecently bunched up around his ankles, naked from the waist down, his shirt shoved up. And Michael didn’t seem quite finished with him anyway. Michael’s hands moved to undo the last buttons of his waistcoat, pushing it aside to shove his shirt further up. He kissed James stomach, still heavily rising and falling with every breath. The feel of Michael’s lips on him, urged him to stretch languorously under the ministrations. But he really wanted to kiss him, split lip be damned. He grabbed Michael at the shoulders, fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt and dragged him up. Michael didn’t resist but moved over him, his weight pressing down on James. James lifted his head to capture Michael’s mouth in his, hoping Michael wouldn’t mind about his bloody lip, then maybe – being a demon who relished in bloodshed too – he might not.  
  
They kissed. The lip hurt, but James almost welcomed the pain, it made him feel alive and even more aware of the kiss, when just yesterday he had been prepared to die. As they parted a chuckle escaped him. “This feels good.”  
  
Michael looked down at him, shifting his weight and moving a hand to brush a thumb against James’ lips. “I really have to do something about that, or it will never heal.”  
  
“As long as you kiss me, I don’t care.”  
  
“ Still want more? I can kiss you some more where you are not hurt.” And Michael moved to do just that, licking and kissing James’ neck, making him squirm and little gasping sounds escape his lips.  
  
“You taste good.” Michael’s voice sounded rough, close to panting. James became aware that Michael was straddling his thigh, moving against him, rubbing his erect cock against James thigh, while still wearing his trousers. James wriggled his hands between their bodies, eliciting a low growl from Michael at first, until he seemed to realise what James intended to do. He wasn’t as quick as Michael in undoing the buttons on the trousers, but then Michael didn’t stop moving.  
  
Finally he managed to get enough buttons open so he could push his hands down the front of Michael’s trousers. His fingers became entangled with Michael’s shirt. “Stupid-stupid-shirt, damn it.” James only realised he had spoken aloud as Michael gave a throaty chuckle.  
  
“You shouldn’t laugh.”  
  
“No?” Michael arched one eyebrow up, then gasped suddenly as James – impatient – abandoned his attempt to get Michael’s shirt out of the way and wrapped his fingers around Michael’s cock, the linen adding a rougher texture to James touch.  
  
“Not right now. Now I only want to hear you moan.”  
  
Michael’s breath spilled hotly against James’ ear, as if he wanted to make sure James wouldn’t miss even the smallest breathless gasp. “For you... everything you want. Mhmmm....James!”  
  
James moved his hand, stroking Michael slowly.  
  
“Want to feel your hand. Please!”  
  
The words and the small panting breaths edged James on. He didn’t stop moving his hand but tried to untangle the shirt with his other. Only as he felt it finally slipping free did he stop and draw back his hand to pull the shirt out of the way. It gained him a pleading whimper from Michael. “Don’t stop, please, don’t stop, need you, James...touch me, please...”  
  
The words made James dizzy. “I won’t stop.” His hand was shaking ever so slightly as he wrapped it around Michael’s erection. Michael thrust against his hand, hot breath spilling against James’ ear. James strokes grew faster.  
  
He wrapped his free arm around Michael, holding him tight as he came. He never wanted to let go again.  
  
He had his eyes closed, enjoying the feel of Michael’s weight on top of him, the heaving of his breath and for a moment felt like there was nothing else.  
  
Of course reality came knocking after some time.  
  
They still lay there on the ground, breathing finally having calmed, as there was a knock on one of the closed doors leading to the study and Michael’s valets voice could be heard after a short pause “Es tut mir leid, Euer Durchlaucht, aber Ihr wolltet informiert werden, wenn wir soweit für den Abtransport sind.”  
  
Michael sighed. “Einen Moment.”  
  
“I really don’t want to get up.” Michael commented as he disentangled himself from James and started making himself presentable again. “But apparently they finished with collecting the bodies outside.”  
  
James shivered slightly, from the loss of contact and sat up too.  
  
“This... I hope you will share my bed tonight.” Michael’s gaze was hot on him, but that he actually asked, made James smile.  
  
“You really ask – after this?”  
  
“Well, since we seem to manage to misunderstand each other, I thought I make sure I tell you exactly what I want.”  
  
James shook his head. “All right. I want to sleep in your bed tonight and before that I will make sure you never have any doubts about what I want again.” He smiled as Michael showed a flash of teeth in a wide grin. James got up and headed for the door that led from the study through the antechamber and the bedroom. “I’ll just take advantage of your bedroom now and get cleaned up.”  
  
Michael nodded but before James reached the door Michael’s voice stopped him. “You haven’t told me what you think.”  
  
James half turned around. “About what?”  
  
“The plan of how you – and the documents – could get back to Britain.”  
  
“If you plan on delivering me personally to the British shores, how could I refuse.” The much more softer smile Michael gave him at hearing those words made James feel warm all over. Despite agreeing to say exactly what he wanted, he felt he couldn’t really say how much he wanted for Michael to come with him. _'We!_ ' To him, that was the most important part of Michael’s plan.

  
###tbc


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loose ends tied up, preparations to leave are being made, everything seems to go according to plan. But then why is James suddenly up in the middle of the night?

It was a sunny day. A light breeze made the new leaves in the trees rustle gently, the sound forming a sort of backdrop to the enthusiastic chirping of the birds. James looked around, curious and surprised. He hardly recognised the place. The last time he had been at the church ruin it had still been in the grip of winter, which seemed to give this place a specially hard time in releasing it. Now everything was green. Even the ground, though littered with old leaves, had grass and flowers in white, yellow and purple poking their heads out between the greyish brown. All the bushes, that had reminded one of skeletal fingers or bodies growing out of the old graves, now where covered in green leaves and blossoms in yellow or white.  
  
James closed his eyes and took a deep breath. A sweet scent filled his nostrils and made him smile. As he opened his eyes again, he became aware of Michael watching him. He seemed all intent on the business for which they had come her, well, for which Michael came here. James was only accompanying him, but could hardly help with the endeavour.  
  
“You like it here.”  
  
It wasn’t exactly a question, still James felt inclined to explain. “It’s beautiful in a way. A bit ironic perhaps, that a graveyard can be filled with so much life.” He looked up to where some birds were chasing each other from branch to branch, and caught a glimpse of a red bushy tail disappearing in one of the treetops.  
  
“You liked it here before, in winter too.” Michael’s voice sounded absent. James returned his gaze towards him and noted how Michael seemed to slowly take in the whole place. Realisation hit James that he could hardly understand, how much this place might meant to Michael. And now he was forced to leave it behind. He wondered if Michael thought he would see it again. Despite his determined words, to get back what was his. Slowly he made his way over to Michael, but before he could reach him, the other man had moved towards the edge. James hesitated, his gaze travelling along were firm ground met empty air, then made to follow. He had to see too.  
  
There were marks of a heavy laden cart on the ground, that stopped before the reached the edge. It probably would have been to dangerous to drive all too close. Michael’s servants would have had to throw each body separately down the steep cliff. He couldn’t quite imagine how they managed the dead horse, but somehow they did, for as he looked down he saw the big brown shape of it. He was glad they were high enough up, so it wasn’t possible to make out details. Still he found himself trying to count the bodies down there. As if trying to make sure it was the whole squadron, all accounted for. He forced himself to get back from the edge. All were dead, he had to let it go. He rubbed the sweaty palms of his hands against his thighs  
  
“You think you can bury them completely?”  
  
“I will try. Even if it hardly matters if they are found, once we are gone.” Michael took a deep breath then jerked his head. “Lets move back to the wall, I don’t know how unstable the ground will get. There might be a bigger landslide than I intend for.”  
  
James nodded and gladly moved further away from the drop. He only stopped as he reached the piece of wall still standing intact and firm, close to the gate. They had left the horses some way back, since the landslide might spook them. So the farther away the animals were from it, the better.  
  
“Anything I can do to – be of assistance?” James asked though he was pretty sure of the answer he would get.  
  
“No, just stay back. And should anything go terribly wrong, run.”  
  
James huffed. “You shouldn’t have mentioned that.” He eyed the distance to the cliff doubtfully now. It seemed far enough away to be safe. So for anything to go wrong, the amount of ground having to move, seemed highly unlikely. Still James couldn’t help tensing some more. Should something go wrong he would do as Michael said. Though he hadn’t specified for him in which direction he should run. _‘I’ll be damned, if I would leave you behind.’_  
  
Some steps in front of James, Michael had sat down on a broken piece of a gravestone. He took the dagger he brought along and held it in his hand for a moment. But then he turned toward James. “There might be a tremor that shakes the whole ground, so best if you steady yourself.”  
  
James nodded, looked around then braced himself against the graveyard wall. If it had withstood nature so far it, chances should be good that it would continuo to stand firm, when the ground started moving.  
  
Michael waited for him to get settled, then turned back to look in the direction of the drop. James watched, then moved to one side so he could better see Michael’s face. His eyes though, were quickly drawn to the dagger in the man’s hand. Michael put the blade against his left palm, then cut without hesitation. James flinched.  
  
He couldn’t see enough of his face, but Michael’s whole body seemed to tense up, only his shoulders rising and falling quickly with short laboured breaths. For a long moment, nothing seemed to happen. Michael had told him that he’d never attempted anything like this before, so it might take some time for him to figure out how to cause a landslide big enough to bury the bodies, but he had seemed confident enough, that he could manage it.  
  
Suddenly James noted that it had gone eerily quiet. He looked up into the leaf canopy of the surrounding trees. Everything had grown still, no birds or other animals showed themselves, even the tiny insect’s buzzing that had filled the air before, had gone. Then it started. There was only a light tremor at first. James gaze was drawn down. He couldn’t make out anything out of the ordinary, but he felt it. A moment later he realised the vibration wasn’t coming from the ground, but filled the air. Involuntarily he pressed his back against the wall. The tremor turned into a low rumbling sound, like a distant thunder that grew in volume and with the sound the ground started to shake. James nearly fell, as the ground underneath him suddenly reared up, like a wave was rolling through it. His stomach lurched and he stumbled forward, bracing himself just in time on one of the gravestones standing between him and Michael. It looked like Michael was the centre of the wave that made the ground move. Slow waves swept out from him, the ones moving from his back only small, growing smaller as he seemed to gain control in directing them. The ones moving to the edge meanwhile started growing in size, the earth and stones at the cliff coming loos. First sounds of individual rocks falling down reached James’ ears before a loud crashing sound filled the air and a good part of the graveyard suddenly disappeared from sight, leaving only a cloud of dust behind.  
  
An eerie quiet descended over the graveyard. James could hear his own breathing unnaturally loud. He swallowed, slowly loosening the death grip he had on the gravestone and stood up straight. His knees were still felt weak.  
  
He looked over to where Michael had stood up. The man slowly turned around to face him. His eyes were still milky white. Michael looked strained, as if he was barely holding on to his demonic side, his breathing sounding pressed.  
  
“Michael, is everything all right?” James moved towards him.  
  
A smile was ghosting over Michael’s lips. He reached out a hand, swaying slightly. James moved quickly to steady him. “You’re done. You can – “ James wondered how best to put it. “- let go now.”  
 _  
“We are not done.”_ The rasping echo of Michael’s voice sent a shiver down James spine, but he didn’t move back as Michael’s hands cupped his face.  
  
James frowned, but before he could ask what he meant, Michael stopped him, moving his thumbs so they pressed lightly against James’ lips.  
 _  
“Sch... this will hurt.”_  
  
It was not much of a warning. Instantly James’ lips started burning and he flinched. He would have drawn back if Michael’s hands hadn’t held him in place. He buried his fingers in Michael’s jacket, gripping tight. Getting hit in the face hadn’t felt as bad as this did. The burning feeling crept over his face, making him gasp for breath. It concentrated on his forehead and felt like iron nails were digging into his skull. He was close to tearing himself away as the pain finally subsided, leaving him shaken and with tears running down his face.  
  
 _“Better.”_  
  
“Beg to diff...” He was cut off by Michael’s mouth on his. His mouth still felt raw and sensitive, yet he relaxed slowly. A mistake -  for suddenly Michael slumped bonelessly against him. James tried to steady them both, but with the added weight and the momentum driving him backwards he stumbled and they went crashing down into the leaves and grass.  
  
James groaned, raised his head a little before letting it fall back against the soft ground. His hat had toppled off his head, but otherwise everything about him he could account for and seemed alright. “Michael?”  
  
The man on top of him gave a low groan, but didn’t move. Gently James poked at his shoulder.  
  
“Dizzy. A moment...” Michael’s voice was muffled by the way his face pressed against James’ chest but it sounded normal again. James tried to relax and put an arm around Michael. He noted that the sounds were coming back to the graveyard. A shy chirping filled the air and as he stared off into the grass and leaves on the ground he noted a spider scurrying from underneath one of the leaves, stopping shortly, as if to soak up the warmth from the sun.  
  
James realised Michael’s breathing had become slow and even. He lifted his head and tried to get a glimpse at Michael’s face, but all he could see were brown strands of hair that curled up at the ends and had a reddish shine to it in the sunlight. Even as James buried one hand in Michael’s hair, the man didn’t move. “Tell me you didn’t deign to fall asleep right on top of me!”  
  
There was no reaction, indicating that Michael had done just that. It took James some time of gentle poking and shaking of Michael’s shoulders to wake the other man up. Finally Michael lifted his head and looked blearily at him. “What?”  
  
James laughed. “You fell asleep. Not that I mind much, but one of my legs started to go numb.”  
  
Michael frowned but slowly rolled off James’ and sat up. James pushed himself in a sitting position, taking a moment to massage some life back into the offended leg. “Thank you, by the way. For healing the last scratches. Though some more warning next time would be nice, it hurt like hell.”  
  
Michael got onto his knees and leant closer, examining James’ face. He brushed one of his thumbs over James’ lips. James smiled, for all he felt now was the slightly rougher texture of Michael’s skin and the absence of pain.  
  
“I told you it would hurt. There is no way around that.”  
  
“Yes you did tell, right the moment it did hurt.”  
  
“Sorry. I didn’t have much time left. Let me show you it was worth it.” Michael leant closer, brushing his lips against James, cutting off any reply.  
  
+++  
  
That night James lay awake, staring off into the darkness. Beside him, Michael was fast asleep already. After causing the massive landslide, the rest of the day had been filled with preparations for their leaving. There hadn’t seemed to be a moment of stillness. Servants were running this way and that, Michael went through his study, putting all the documents he needed together, while James had busied himself with the stolen papers, memorising the maps, reading through all the letters and gleaning all the possible information from them and putting the frame of Napoleon’s plans down in writing of his own. Just in case. In case they would get separated or someone stole the documents or... Michael had looked sceptical at James’ explanations, until he had sighed and said that he was doing it to keep himself busy. That finally Michael seemed to accept.  
  
James was feeling exhausted as well, but his mind was still too much in an uproar to let him sleep. He was going through their plans again and again, trying to find things that could go wrong.  
  
They would go by carriage to Ulm. James’ felt nervous about that, since they would take longer, than if they would just go on horseback. But Michael had argued, that they would rouse a lot less suspicion that way and it would be easier to take any required luggage along, which they needed quite some, since Michael would have to present himself at court in Vienna. As for James, he would have to buy new clothes once there, since most of his clothes had been left behind at the Kurfürsts summer-residence.  
  
The things he came here in, were in the servants hands right now, who tried to clean and mend them as best they could. For the travel he wouldn’t need those though, since he was to pose as Michael’s servant, (together with Ferdinand) just in case there were spies looking for a nobleman from the British Isles. And to be on the safe side, he would play mute. Michael had assured him his German had become better. But he couldn’t hide the amusement at James’ attempts of delivering some German sentences, his accent unmistakable. Well he knew he did not sound like anyone native to the language. As long as no one would approach him and try and talk to him in long, winding sentences, he should be all right or he would have to pretend to be mute and a dumb for not understanding what they meant  
  
James rolled onto his belly and buried his face in his pillow. He really hoped he would not arouse any suspicion, at least not until they were far enough away from any danger of getting caught. It would take them about six days to reach Ulm and then, Michael had estimated it might take another week by boat down the Danube to Vienna. If only they were on their way already. But he still had to wait another day. He wasn’t sure he could stand waiting that long.  
  
James shifted again, so he lay on his side and faced Michael’s sleeping form. He couldn’t make out his face, but he had had time enough to observe him during the day. The worried frown that showed on Michael’s forehead and the way he suddenly stopped and looked, just looked, at something. James couldn’t imagine how hard it must be to leave everything behind.  
  
He reached out and placed his hand on Michael’s shoulder. The naked skin felt warm under his touch. He took a deep breath, tried to relax and closed his eyes for a moment.  
  
His eyes flew open as he suddenly heard voices and the sound of horses. He sat up in bed, heart hammering in his chest, straining his ears. Was that a barking sound coming from the courtyard? It was hard to concentrate and hear above the sound of the rushing of his own blood in his ears.  
Quickly he slipped out of bed. He didn’t bother with lighting any candle, but made his way to the door in the dark. Carefully he eased it open, straining his hearing all the while.  
  
Coming in the night, trying to get him, they would have torches, lamps, some form of light. He should be able to see them shining through the windows of the salon, where the curtains weren’t drawn. James frowned. All was dark before him. He forced himself to swallow down the constricting feeling that had clamped itself around his throat and move forward. Perhaps they had moved to one of the side entrances, hoping to sneak into the mansion and take them by surprise. He would take a short look outside, to determine the situation, then wake Michael.  
  
James went down on his knees in front of the window and peered out. The yard seemed empty. Carefully he moved closer to the cold window pane and pressed his face against it, in an attempt to see better and take in all the shadows were someone might hide. He cursed the moon, that only showed itself as slim crescent, not enough to light the night.  
  
Were they already in the house? But were did they leave the horses. A creaking sound behind him made him whirl around. His hand grabbed for the next best thing he might use as a weapon, fingers wrapping around a footstool, raising it in defence. He stood half crouched, ready for any attack.  
  
“James? What are you...” Michael’s voice sounded sleep-blurred and for a moment relieve washed through James. He let his arm with the impromptu weapon sink.  
  
“Michael, you...” But then his mind snapped back to its prior alertness. “I thought I heard something outside.”  
  
Michael came over to him. He had taken the time to slip into his dressing gown though had neglected to tie it up front. He leant past James to look outside, not being as subtle about it as James had tried to be. “I can’t see anything.”  
  
James’ held his breath for a moment, somehow fearing, certain... but nothing happened and he could hear nothing from outside. “I heard horses... and voices.” Though he sounded less sure than he had felt mere moments ago.  
  
“I’ll take a look outside.” Michael looked at him, his gaze slipping down. Even in the half gloom James could make out a smirk showing on Michael’s lips. “You better stay here.”  
  
Michael pulled the ties of his dressing gown tighter, tying them as he headed for the door. James quickly, or as quickly as possible in the dark, went to the couch. His hands slid searching across it, until he located the blanket there and quickly threw it around himself, before he went to follow Michael decidedly.  
  
Michael stood on the front stone landing, listening. He only let himself be distracted for a moment as James stepped up beside him.  
  
James tried to pierce the darkness with his gaze, attempting to make out anything out of the ordinary. A flicker of light, a shadow were none should be. Slowly he noticed the soft chirping of the nightly insects around himself. His gaze was suddenly drawn by movement in the air, only to realise that it was nothing more than some small bats circling around the roof in their hunt, flitting dark shapes against the night sky.  
  
“I can’t hear anything. Perhaps you heard some of the servants... or were dreaming.” Michael put a warm hand on James’ shoulder. James bit his lip, uncertain. He couldn’t remember falling asleep, but perhaps he had. “It seems so...”  
  
“Let’s get back inside.” Michael moved, his hand slipping from James’ shoulder as he stayed right were he was. Frowning Michael turned toward James, whose gaze still was glued to the surrounding darkness.  
  
Suddenly James’ vision was obscured as something big but light landed on top of him. He sputtered shocked and clawed at the fabric suddenly covering his head. As he managed to pull it off his head, he realised it was Michael’s dressing gown the man had thrown over him. He turned back towards the door. Michael was leaning in the doorframe and even by the dim light James’ could see the beautiful naked body. All hard lines and lean muscles. His heart-rate picked up but for quite another reason than before.  
  
“Seems like you need some kind of extra motivation to come back to bed.” Michael’s voice held a warm purring promise as he turned around and walked back inside.  
  
Quickly James made to follow, though he couldn’t stop himself from letting his gaze sweep the empty courtyard one last time, before he closed the door behind them.

###

tbc


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael and James are finally on their way, Michael has left his home behind and they are heading east, away from Napoleons troops, or so they hope. Though James can’t shake off the feeling that they are followed.
> 
> Bit angsty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One month since the last chapter. Sorry! But I'm working on Chapter 24 now, so the next updates should be more regular again.

The carriage, pulled by two horses, was loaded with big trunks, fixed to the roof and its back. Two saddled horses were tethered to run behind the carriage. Their two riders were currently inside the carriage, escaping the light drizzle that had started in the morning.  
Having to steer the coach, Ferdinand wasn’t so lucky. He sat hunched on the coach box, huddled up in a long coat, hat drawn far into the forehead. The rain wasn’t heavy but consistent and Ferdinand felt the carefully waxed up tips of his moustache starting to droop regardless. He spared a glance up at the sky. There was no sign of it clearing up, but grey all around. Not much travel was going on on the road either. So all was rather quiet, no sound coming from the inside of the carriage either.    
  
Michael had both arms wrapped around James, to keep him from dropping down. He had slipped forward in his seat and braced his feet on the opposite bench of the carriage, so he could nestle and support James weight.  
  
James head had tilted back. Michael looked down at the mop of curly brown hair that hung loosely into his forehead, noting that it had visibly grown out somewhat. Michael decided, it suited him, as did the light dusting of freckles, that were showing more prominently on James’ nose. A testimony to him having spent more days outside, as well as the stronger spring-sun. James’ lips were parted slightly in sleep, and if Michael weren’t certain the other man was asleep, he would have thought this was merely to tempt him. Though he did wonder, how James managed to drop off with the rattling of the carriage. Not that he wasn’t glad, that James got some rest at last.  
  
The past days had been filled with only restless tossing and turning in the night, that more than once woke Michael too. The reason for this, James believing he had heard – something. Horses, dogs, a soldiers boots crunching on gravel or whispered words in French. The sounds made him get up to creep towards the windows to check. Slowly Michael had started to grow concerned at the clearly unreasonable fear, that James seemed unable to shake off. In the end Michael felt glad, as they finally departed his home, simply for the hope James would be able to relax once they were on the move, getting away from what haunted him. But whatever nightmare plagued James he seemed to take it with him. The first night, spent on a farm on the very edge of  Michael’s lands, still had found James sitting wide awake in the hay-barn they slept in. He had been staring into the darkness, listening for sounds that only existed in his head.  
  
Michael still hoped, that perhaps the next night, when they could sleep in a real bed in an inn, would finally lay James ghosts to rest. Michael studied James’ face some more, looking past the freckles, the inviting mouth. He saw the shadows underneath James’ eyes, that had become more prominent these past days and looked like bruises. Michael carefully touched the frown-line between James’ eyebrows with the tips of his fingers. James tensed up, just from the slight touch. Michael drew his hand back, if only reluctantly. “It’s alright, James. It’s alright.” He spoke only hushed, but the sudden sound let James flinch, though he seemed too tired to wake up fully.  
  
Michael gritted his teeth. If he could kill that French soldiers again. He would. And this time, he would take his time.  
  
+++  
  
As Michael woke up in the middle of the night, he knew what woke him before he even opened his eyes. He didn’t bother raising his head from the pillow, that lacked in softness. “James... I’m sure it’s nothing.”  Even the bed-sheets felt coarse against his skin. It was one thing sleeping in a barn, knowing that the hay would poke you because it was just a barn, not something intended to sleep in, and sleeping in a bed and it simply not being able to live up to expectations. At least there was James. Having to decide between his own bed and a bed, any bed, with James in it, he knew what his choice would be without hesitation. A slow smile spread on Michael’s lips and his hand slipped over to the side of the bed where James was - where he should be. It was a testimony to his sleep-befuddled brain, that for a moment he seemed to have forgotten why he had woken up in the first place.  
  
He opened his eyes, rolled around in the bed and sat up. His gaze was drawn to the windows first. But there was no dark silhouette, outlined against the night sky there. Quickly he looked around the room, but James was definitely not here. With a sigh Michael sank back into the bed. Maybe James had just... what? He wouldn’t stumble around in the dark to head for the privy outside when there was a fully functional chamber pot right under the bed.  
  
Michael lay awake, staring up at the dark ceiling. He wondered how long James was gone already. Had perhaps the sound of the door closing woken him up?  
  
He sat up and slipped out of bed. Naked he padded over to the door. He remembered closing the hatch before they went to bed, now it was unlocked. He pulled it open and leaned outside into the narrow corridor, listening for any sounds. Everything was quiet. Michael closed the door again and went back to take a look outside the window. Maybe James, not able to sleep, had decided to walk around the inn’s courtyard. The moon was close to being full and he could see well enough. There was no sign of James outside either. His gaze scanned the shadows, but nothing.  
  
Michael opened the window. The night was quiet, except for some cats mewling in the distance. Probably serenading each other.  
  
He was tempted to just call out, see if he could get an answer. Chances were higher though that he would wake the few people staying at the inn as well as its residents, then getting an answer from James.  
  
It took Michael a moment to locate his trousers and shirt. He slipped on his boots, then hesitated before leaving. Should he take anything to be used as a weapon? His fingers delved in the pockets of his coat, brushing against the familiar cool metal of his dagger. For a moment he felt tempted to just use his powers to find James. It would be much easier, than having to run around the inn and it’s adjourning buildings, trying to find his missing diplomat. It would mean taking an unnecessary risk though, exhausting himself that way. What if... Michael shook his head. He was getting as paranoid as James. They didn’t have to expect any more French troops chasing after them. Not yet at least. Yet his hand came out of the pocket empty, and Michael made his way outside. It was solely so he could, once he found James, try and shake some sense into him using his actual hands.  
  
After the dark corridors inside, the night outside appeared almost bright. The cool moonlight illuminated a world of grey and black, letting familiar things appear out of place and sinister. For a moment Michael thought he spotted a lonely figure, before realising it was only a shadow on the wall, created by an old bucket hung upside down and a rake beside it. He encountered a cat, that stopped for a moment, stared at him, before continuing on its way on silent paws. It disappeared in the shadow of a doorway, that must have concealed a hole in the door. He took a look around and then decided to just check out the stables. Wanting to see after the horses might be high on James’ list to reassure himself. Making sure they could escape any time.  
  
As he came to the big wooden stable-doors, he had his suspicions confirmed. The latch keeping the doors locked, was pushed back. He  pulled on one of the handles, until one side of the double-doors stood open just wide enough to slip in. The heavy door swung back behind him, plunging the stable into darkness again. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust. Suddenly he heard the unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked to his right – right by his ear. The hair on his body stood on end and he tensed. “Was zum...”  
  
From the direction of the gun aimed at him came a familiar voice. “Michael?” James’ spoke in a rush of exhaled air.  
  
“Yes. James? What are you doing?” He turned towards the voice. James was only a yet darker silhouette in the blackness. Nevertheless, the pistol in James’ hand, still pointed towards him, was unmistakable. “Why do you have a pistol with you? And why are you pointing it at me?”  
  
“I’m sorry, I thought... there was a sound that woke me.” James voice sounded weary, as if he knew, that most of the sounds he heard at night were imaginary, really. “I just went to check and thought, better safe than sorry.”  
  
Michael tried to make out James expression, then eyed the pistol. “And you have decided I am a threat to you?”  
  
“What, why, no...” James sounded confused.  
  
“You are still pointing that pistol at me, and knowing how well you can handle it, makes me think I might not be able to get away with an injury I can heal in time – should you choose to fire said pistol.”  
  
It took an uncanny long moment for James’ gaze to shift from Michael to his own hand. And still a moment longer, for him to realise what he was doing. James swallowed audible and moved his arm to finally point the pistol up in the air, before he secured it by pushing the hammer back in half-cocked position. Only then did he let his arm sink to his side. A small shiver ran through James’ body and he hung his head, his face not only obscured by the dark but his ruffled hair. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”  
  
“You’re like a clockwork wound up too tight. Any moment you will break. And there is no need for that. You worry to much.”  
  
“What?!” James voice held a tense edge. “Michael, I’ve been chased like a mindless deer for a week. I’ve done nothing but run and hide and run again. I was afraid to sleep... and when I nodded off, I was sure I would wake to dogs and French soldiers surrounding me. I  know how relentless they can be in their pursuit. Don’t tell me I worry too much.”  
  
Michael had to restrain himself to not make a grab for James. The urge to shake him was almost overwhelming. “I killed the whole squadron. You killed their captain yourself. Even if they are reported missing as early as today. It will still take days for a new squadron to be dispatched, for them to pick up their trail, find out what happened to them and THEN come after us. By that time we will be in Vienna already. You have to let it go or you will ruin yourself.” Michael spoke intensely, though he fought down his frustration, trying to not let it show. He forced himself to relax, only then did he trust himself enough to reach out slowly, as if he was trying to touch a spooked animal. His fingertips brushed against James’ cheek. As James didn’t flinch back he stepped closer, wrapped his arms around James and pulled him against himself. James moved stiffly with him, his body feeling rigid.  
  
Michael moved one hand down James’ arm, fingers wrapping gently around the hand still holding the pistol. “Let it go.” James fingers tightened around the weapon. Michael frowned. “Don’t be stubborn.” He couldn’t disguise the growl in his voice. For a moment he thought James’ would draw back, but then he felt a little shiver going through the smaller man’s body. James’ fingers twitched involuntarily and Michael used that moment to pluck the pistol from his hand. He leaned down and dropped it on the ground. “You don’t need it. You have a demon to take care of you, and as you have seen I’m a much more efficient weapon.”  
  
James shook his head. “You can’t be ready for an attack all the time. I can’t rely on you to take care of any threats.”  
  
If James had been more himself, he would have felt hurt, as things stood, the words still held a bit of a sting, though he didn’t want to admit that. “Why not?”  Michael frowned  
  
James shook his head. “You are not invincible. What if there are too many of them. What if someone mages to take you by surprise – in your sleep.”  
  
Michael’s hands moved up to James shoulders. He could feel the taut muscles through the thin fabric of his shirt. His fingers dug into James neck, trying to ease and get rid of the tension. “If you haven’t noticed, I always wake up when you do.” He didn’t feel invincible, in fact he had been made rather helpless when the French invaded his estate.  
  
James leaned back slightly, trying to get a good look at Michael’s face in the darkness. He gave up with a little frustrated sigh. “I’m sorry. I know... I know it probably is nothing, but I - it always seems so real. I’m certain  that I heard something. I always think, what if this time...” James drew a shaking breath, before he continued. “What if this time I’m not imagining things.”  
  
“James - just, next time you’ll wake up in the middle of the night, promise you will at least stay in bed.” Not so he wouldn’t get woken up, but Michael hoped that by staying in bed James would be able to fall asleep again. Wandering around at night, searching for enemies that simply weren’t there was clearly only agitating James and not helping at all.  
  
But James turned his head away, unable to make such a promise. Michael took James’ chin between his long fingers and forced him to look his way, even if he couldn’t see much.  
  
James made a sound that seemed a mixture between a mewl and a sob and he suddenly pressed up against Michael. His fingers gripped Michael’s shirt tightly. “I’m so tired – so tired of being chased.” It was hard to make out the words, James mouthing them with his face buried at Michael’s chest.  
  
Michael wrapped his arms around him, making sure James could rest his full weight against him, if he choose to.  
  
“I’m so... in broad daylight I know it’s not real what I hear at night, that it simply is not possible. I can’t shake it off. I just can’t. It’s like, despite them being dead, they still got me, in here.” James raised a hand, burying it in his hair, almost tearing at it. Michael moved his hand atop James’, trying to make him loosen his grip.  
  
“Stop this. You’re hurting yourself.”  
  
James gave a weird strangled sound. “You are one to talk.”  
  
Michael shook his head. “It’s a means to an end. But you are not achieving anything by pulling out your hair.” If only he could heal James mind as easily as his body, Michael wouldn’t hesitate to stab his hand, shoulder or leg. He thought of the painting of the Nachtmahr, of the demon sitting on the sleepers chest, keeping her from falling. If only he could do something like that for James. Keeping him anchored.  
  
He managed to pull James’ hand free at last and kept a tight grip on it. Drawing it close, he pressed his lips against the back of it. There had to be a way to calm him down. He couldn’t be that helpless.  
  
“Will you come back to bed with me?”  
  
James nodded.  
  
“And stay there?”  
  
James gave a helpless little huff. “I’ll try.”  
  
He moved forward, putting his forehead against James’. He pulled James’ hand against his chest, placing it firmly against it right over his heart. “This is real. Promise me, the next time you wake up in the night, thinking you heard something, you will listen to this for some time. Then you try to hear whatever alerted you and only if that sound still seems real to you, will you get up to check.”  
  
He wouldn’t let James slip away, he wouldn’t let him fall. There was a calm certainty settling in him.  
  
+++  
  
The next night, another small inn. This time it stood at a crossroads, together with some farmhouses and there was even a smithy. A small rough assembly of buildings, not yet worthy of the designation ‘village’, but far less remote than the last inn they spent the night. To James it felt like nothing had changed at all. The night was just as quiet, quiet enough to hear any sounds that didn’t belong. There was nothing to keep anyone from sneaking up on them, surrounding them...  
  
James squeezed his burning eyes forcefully shut. There was no doubt, he was slowly going insane. Michael had tried to distract him, make him relax, but James didn’t feel like – anything really.  
His thoughts were too distracted his whole body way to tense and wound up to let go enough to give himself over to any pleasure. Finally Michael had given up, frustrated and fallen asleep, long before James himself finally drifted off, only to snap back fully awake shortly after, certain he heard a sound outside. Horses, voices, dogs barking. He felt like he was on the run again, or really, like hr never stopped. Except for that one night, right after he had reached Michael’s estate, right after Michael had killed the French Hussar Squadron, he had not had a full nights rest. He had tried to tell himself he was safe now, tried to convince himself, but some part of him found it unable to relax. Every morning he told himself how stupid his worries were, that he was safe, as safe could be, that no, no more soldiers followed him. But every night, the dread crept back.  
  
 _‘It’s a madness, I can’t escape’._  
  
James rubbed his hands over his face.  
  
And not only was his sleeplessness affecting him, but Michael as well. He sat up, careful, trying not to wake him – again. He looked over at Michael. He lay on his back as far as he could make out, still asleep. James let his head drop forward, staring at the rumpled blanket in his lap, his hands, that were shaking slightly. He tried to calm his breathing and his racing heartbeat. _‘I can’t get up again to check. I know that nothing is out there.’_ Still he felt the hair at the back of his neck rising as he unconsciously strained his hearing for any odd sounds.    
  
 _‘No. Stop it. You promise. I promised. I can’t!’_  
  
For a moment he felt like hitting something. Himself preferably. He looked over at Michael again. Perhaps he should ask him to simply knock him unconscious.  
  
His hands were still shaking as he reached out and placed one hand on Michael’s naked chest. He could feel the slow steady heartbeat. Carefully James lay down, moving so he could rest his head on Michael’s chest. He felt it, but he had to close his eyes and concentrate to make out the steady thumping sound. His hand had slipped down, resting against Michael’s stomach. It rose and fell with every breath. Lightly his fingertips brushed against the warm skin, stretching over taut muscles.  
  
James wondered how long he was supposed to listen. For some time, Michael had said, but he never specified. A bit longer. He felt tired, his muscles ached, his eyes were burning... There was a light touch, long fingers brushing through his hair. Oddly enough it didn’t startle him, just made a slight smile tug at his lips. So he had woken Michael again, though he couldn’t bring himself to regret it, his touch felt way to nice, the gentle caress soothing the tension. His shoulders relaxed slowly. The gentle drumming under his ear pulled him in, his head felt heavy.  
  
 _‘Just a bit longer – just a bit ...’  
_

_  
He looked up at the blue sky. Snowflakes were tumbling towards the ground, surrounding him._

_###_

_tbc  
_


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poetry, dreams and sex.

Usually James liked to travel, even if it was by coach, though he preferred to ride a horse. He was more in control that way. Whatever means the travel though, he enjoyed to see new things. Now, he was unable to look forward, but found himself glancing over his shoulder all the time. Strangely enough, he fell asleep in the carriage again and again, dragged down by weariness. Michael didn’t seem to mind to be abused as a pillow. He might still drop off, head just resting against the other man’s shoulder, but almost always he woke up curled up with his head on Michael’s lap.   
  
And that  despite him spending most of the night asleep now. He still woke up, hearing their invisible pursuers. Sometimes he had to literally force himself, but always did he rest his head against Michael’s chest, listening to his heartbeat. And always did that cause him to fall asleep again. Sometimes he felt so wide awake he was sure this time it wouldn’t help, but it was like the sound was entrancing him. It never seemed to take more than minutes, before he drifted off.   
  
He still felt restless, he still felt weary and tired, but not as bad, less desperate than he had done before. Still he wished he could sleep normal again. Because there was an strange thing to his sleep now.  
He was having odd dreams, or rather, one odd dream, reoccurring every night. It wasn’t a bad dream, no nightmare, but it was calming, yet empty, like the dream was wrapping him in cotton balls.   
  
And when he woke up, it felt like he was struggling out of a deep pond, with mud sucking at his limbs, trying to keep him under. It seemed to take hours before he was fully awake and had shaken the rests of sleep and the dream off.  
  
The dream itself seemed to keep him sleeping, and he had been growing suspicious about it. James wasn’t certain if the dream came solely from his own mind or if Michael – the demon – had something to do with it.  Maybe not even consciously. He remembered the night he had walked into Michael’s bedroom and he woke up, eyes white for a moment, declaring the demon had the upper hand. Michael hadn’t even seemed aware of it.  
  
But he didn’t voice his suspicions. Michael must have thought him crazy enough as it was.  
  
And sometimes he had the dream in the carriage as well, when Michael himself wasn’t asleep. He had asked him and he told him he couldn’t sleep with the rattling of the carriage. So that meant either Michael wasn’t involved in the dream after all, or he was very well aware of what he was doing.  
  
James shifted his gaze from where he was looking out the carriage window to look at Michael beside him. He had a book on his lap and was leaving through it.   
  
“I don’t know how you can read with the rattling and shaking of the carriage.”  
  
Michael smiled though he didn’t look up from the book. ”I’m all right, as long as it’s nothing too extensive.”  
  
James leant closer, putting a hand on Michael’s shoulder to brace himself. ”So what is this? German?”  
  
“Yes, poetry. You want me to read some to you?”  
  
“You know I don’t understand enough German yet to understand poetry. The words are strung together in a way and some of them are...”  
  
“Archaic?”  
  
“If you say so.” Yet James continued to look down at the page Michael was reading currently. He put a hand on the page, picking a Absatz at random where he recognised a few words at least. “ _Und horch! es brummt die Glocke noch, die elf schon angeschlagen. I understand this menas something like – Listen! And then there is something about a bell and it... strikes eleven already. If this an-ge-schlagen means the same as schlagen. But what about this word._ ” He tapped the page.  
  
“Actually it means the bell has been striking eleven already but you can still hear it droning in the aftermath.”  
  
“See, the finer points are lost to me.”  
  
Michael cupped James face with his left and made him look up. “Don’t worry, I will show you the finer points. _Sieh hin, sieh her! der Mond scheint hell. Wir und die Toten reiten schnell. Ich bringe dich, zur Wette, noch heut in’s Hochzeitsbette._ ” Before James had enough time to decipher the meaning, Michael’s mouth on his distracted him. The kiss was slow and lingering. Michael’s fingers traced along his ear, making James shiver pleasantly.   
  
“I somehow am in doubt if that was an accurate translation.”  
  
“Perhaps I skipped ahead a little. But let me read this to you from the start.”  
  
“All right. I can tell you what I think it means then, and you can correct what I have understood the wrong way.” James settled down more comfortable, slipping his hand from the book to rest on Michael’s thigh.  
  
Michael shifted a little, putting one arm around James before settling back down, now holding the book in just one hand. “ _Lenore fuhr ums Morgenrot, empor aus schweren Träumen: „Bist untreu, Wilhelm, oder tot? Wie lange willst du säumen?“ Er war mit König Friedrichs Macht, gezogen in die Prager Schlacht, und hatte nicht geschrieben: Ob er gesund geblieben._ ”  
  
  
James closed his eyes, letting the words wash over him, despite what he said not paying too much attention to their meaning, just listening to the fall and rise of Michael’s voice. James smiled to himself. Michael could sound very gentle, soothing and the longer he listened the more certain he grew of the slight purring he was hearing not only the way Michael pronounced the letters r but the ch as well and underlying everything was the steady thrumming of Michael’s steady heartbeat.  
  
His head slipped forward and as James looked up _he was at the old graveyard at the ruin of the church on Michael’s lands. Everything was white, covered in snow, but he didn’t feel cold. It was silent, not in a threatening or ominous way, but simply quiet and calm. Like the snow had drawn a muffling blanket over everything. James couldn’t even hear his breathing or his boots crunch in the snow. He slowly walked among the gravestones. He couldn’t make out the cliff or the gates, so it didn’t seem to matter in which direction he went.  
  
Slowly the gravestones started growing, rising up, changing, forming high shelves, filled with books, turning the whole place into a library. He was no longer walking between gravestones and trees but shelves upon shelves. It was like a maze, yet still there was nothing threatening to it. James was walking, browsing leisurely through the place, not worried about getting out and not feeling any need to get somewhere. The place was filled with daylight, yet there were no windows to be seen. The smell of books filled his nose, mixed with the distinct smell of cigar smoke. He touched the bookshelves. The wood felt warm under his fingers, and something made him think it was alive, though he didn’t know why he thought that. James stopped in front of a shelve and looked at its contents. He couldn’t make out the words written on the books spines, but that didn’t worry him either. He just thought they looked beautiful, the leather bindings came in different colours and was embossed with different patterns, some edged in gold. He turned around, took some steps backward and headed for another corridor formed by the shelves, idly wondering if he had taken this turn before. He always seemed to take different turns when he was here, yet he always ended at the same place.   
  
James stepped from between two shelves and found himself in the libraries centre. At least he thought of it as its centre. The shelves were arranged around it to form a square. In the middle of the empty place stood a chaise-longue.   
  
James lay down on it and looked up at the sky. The dream library didn’t need a roof. The sky was a bright blue, yet it was filled with dancing snowflakes that came from no clouds, but simply were there. He could make out singular flakes and watch how they danced upward, lifted by a breeze, before they slowly tumbled down again. He felt warm and comfortable and slowly became aware that the cushions he lay upon were throbbing steadily. James closed his eyes, letting the feeling engulf him. He was sinking further back or down, he couldn’t say. He felt pulled in, slipping deeper. When he pried his dream-eyes open again he was rested in a sea of white snow. The white, soft flakes were covering his naked body completely. They were warm and soft and seemed to cling to him. He always ended up here, wrapped up safely, just drifting in the whiteness. No sounds, real or imaginary could reach him here. And though the idea to be so helpless would have raised panic in reality when he was here it didn't bother him at all. _  
  
James woke, slowly and with a little moan. He felt groggy, like the dreamscape was clinging to his mind in sticky cobwebs, making it hard to think. Part of him wanted to just slip back to sleep while the other was struggling with waking up completely. He lay on something warm, yet hard. He wanted to push himself up on his hand but it slipped off from where it had been resting. What was wrong with the bed, it seemed far to narrow. Disoriented he tried to keep his eyes open and make sense of what he saw.   
  
Finally he registered hands holding his shoulders, steadying him. “Michael?”  
  
“Yes. Just take your time. We just stopped to water the horses.”  
  
Only as Michael told him did James realise that he was still in the carriage but it was not moving. “I fell asleep! I’m sorry.” He finally managed to sit up. His body protesting at the not exactly relaxing position he had spent the – what – last hour? Hours? The door to the carriage stood open and James tried to see the sun outside.  
  
“It’s alright. Do you want to go outside and stretch your legs? I must admit I would like to, cause it feels like my legs have gone to sleep.”  
  
“Sorry. I’m sorry. This dream...” James shook his head. “I feel like I’m hung over every time I wake.”  
  
“I hope it’s not a bad dream?”  
  
“No, nothing like that. I dream of that graveyard, everything is silent. Then a library and snow. Though it doesn’t feel like snow, just soft and warm really. I can’t describe it properly.“ James sighed. In his mind it was quite clear but there was nothing really happening, so he didn’t know how best to describe it. He rubbed his hands over his face and licked his lips. He needed something to drink. He stepped out of the carriage, Michael following right behind him.  
  
“It doesn’t sound like something to worry about.”  
  
“It isn’t, I was just. It is strange that I have the same dream every night now. And though the dream is peaceful really, when I think about it I feel – “ ‘overwhelmed by it. Trapped.’ James looked at Michael’s face. Michael was returning the gaze, searching James face. James just couldn’t get himself to say it. It was just a dream after all. And perhaps it was Michael’s doing. Though it was an odd thought, having a demon protect ones dreams. Making sure they didn’t turn into nightmares?  
  
“Would you like to ride for a bit. The weather is fine enough.”  
  
James let the sun shine on his face while he was stretching himself, trying to shake off the last of the clinging sleepiness. “Is that wise. What if someone sees a servant riding a horse like a Lord when all he should be entitled to is riding on the coach box with the coachman.”  
  
“For the rest of today’s journey there are only two small villages ahead the road only passes and we will change positions again before we reach tonight’s inn, so no suspicions are roused.” Michael suddenly came up from behind James and wrapped his arms around him. Attacking his neck, nuzzling and sucking at the sensitive skin there, making James gasp surprised and driving away the last of his sleepiness. “And I guess the few people who will see, will think that this cheeky servant has his Lord wrapped around his wicked fingers.”  
  
+++  
  
James never thought he would ever feel not hunted again, but then they reached Ulm, finally. It was afternoon as the carriage rolled into the city. James sat beside Ferdinand on the coach box, to keep up his appearance as servant – for now.  
  
The noise, the smell, it all was a bit overwhelming after spending the last days on the road and in the evening, only at small inns, avoiding any of the bigger towns. James realised he was smiling. The normality of city-life, the way people just went along their daily routine around him, everything seemed so normal, so banal.   
  
He suddenly had to chuckle and felt a tension leave him he hadn’t even been aware had been his constant companion so far. James felt light. He closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the warm sun shining on his face - and nearly dropped off to sleep - and the coach.  
  
So he didn’t protest at all, when, after taking lodgings in an inn close to the harbour, Michael insisted he stay back, while he and Ferdinand went to make arrangements for their further travel. He was no use in that any way, since he had to keep his mouth shut, so not to attract any unwanted attention to the fact he was not speaking German very well. Though they didn’t have to worry of a Hussar-squadron jumping out of the dust in the street, it was not beyond Napoleon to have spies here. So best to lie low. And he took the lying part very serious. After carrying up the luggage together with Ferdinand, the perfect model of a good obedient servant, he only took enough time to take off his boots, socks and jacket, before dropping into one of the narrow beds in the room he officially shared with Ferdinand. He fell asleep, before his head hit the pillow.  
  
+++  
  
 _Everything was soft and warm around him, the chaise-longue he lay on felt like it was pulsing with a slow heartbeat of its own. He stretched, languorously, and felt sinking deeper. He opened his eyes, looking into the blue sky above, filled with dancing snowflakes, slowly tumbling down and covering his naked body. They felt like feathers, soft and warm, brushing against his skin, leaving his body tingling. He shifted, the movement only intensifying the feeling. James licked his lips. It was like, if he just concentrated just so, the snowflakes became more solid, a weight, pressing down on him. But the sensation slipped out of his grasp again and again, like he was teased. The flakes brushed down over his chest and belly, as if blown by a breeze James himself couldn’t feel any other way. His gaze was drawn down. He wanted to raise his hand and touch his newly bared skin, but found he couldn’t move them. He tried to wriggle and shift, but it made no difference, the movement only stirred up the snowflakes, no feathers, they were definitely feathers now, and they were brushing in maddening light teasing touch against his thighs and cock.  
  
Somewhere in the back of his mind he thought that this hadn’t happened before, none of his dreams had taken a turn towards the erotic. But he quite enjoyed the sensation. He was growing hard while the feathers seemed to swirl around his growing erection, the light touch maddening, the friction just enough to make James want more and more. His hips bucked up, but something seemed to hold him back, grip his hips, making him stay in place. That feeling, he liked, if only there would be a tighter grip on his cock too. ‘Please, please, please...’, he begged his dream to obey his wishes. It didn’t bring the result he wished for, but he found he could move one of his hands. He reached down, wanting to touch himself but his fingers brushed against soft feathers, keeping him from getting even close. Then his hand was suddenly pushed aside by an invisible force. _  
  
_A warm chuckle reached his ears._  
  
James blinked, his vision blurred. There was no blue sky above, but a wood-panelled ceiling. Instead of feathers surrounding him, there was white linen and – he looked down.  
  
Grey eyes locked on his while a wicked tongue teased the tip of his cock. Michael’s hands held on to his hips, making sure he couldn’t move. James gasped, his head falling back against his pillow. “Holy... “ The slight suction at his cock made him loos any breath for the rest of the words.  
  
“I would beg to differ.” Michael was a tease, barely lifting his mouth away so his lips brushed over the sensitive skin, making James squirm.  
  
“Yes, yes, I’m sorry. Please – don’t stop, whatever...” Feeling rested for the first time in... weeks, waking up to Michael’s head between his legs, James really had no intention to complain or argue. He would gladly agree with Michael on anything and not stop at begging as long as he just didn’t stop. “Better than dreaming!”  
  
Michael chuckled, his fingers pushing against James’ hips, stopping his squirming. “I hope this does feel real enough to you.”   
  
“Yes.” Vaguely he realised, something was at odds and not the way he went to sleep. This wasn’t the bed he went to sleep in, and he had been wearing clothes, and it was way to light outside to be evening. _‘No, this isn’t, can’t be a dream now!?’_ “How am I here, when...”  
  
“Do you really want me to go into a detailed explanation – NOW. Or would you rather have me take care of matters at hand – or rather at mouth.”  
  
James blushed. “Please, no... ignore that.”  
  
Michael raised an amused eyebrow. “Really? You want me to ignore – this.” To emphasise what he meant, he let his tongue flick against James cock.  
  
James eyes grew just a little wider. “Nonono, that’s not what I... not ignore that. Me... my question. Oh please stop teasing me you – demon!”  
  
“Now you have it right.” The gaze Michael gave him was turning more intense, James heart started beating faster and for a moment he wondered if, somehow, he had managed to conjure the demon. ‘If this were a dream, his eyes would turn white now.’ But all Michael did was smile – though in a rather demonic way, lick his lips and then slid his mouth over James’ erection.  
  
James eyes drifted shut, he was panting, all attention on the hot, wet sucking feeling of Michael’s mouth around his erection. He bit his lips. He couldn’t help himself, he wanted to buck up into the wonderful hot mouth, but Michael held him securely in place with his hands. James reached down, his hands ghosting over Michael’s fingers, before he moved them up to bury his hands in Michael’s hair, wanting to make sure he didn’t stop. Not when he was so close to coming. Just a little bit more. Oh that was so much better than the teasing of feathers he had dreamt about. A tiny part of him kept wondering about the dream and reality, merging, that he’d have that dream again. And for a moment he was entirely certain that the dream was Michael’s demons doing, then his orgasm washed over him, blacking out all coherent thoughts.  
  
As he opened his eyes again, Michael lay beside him, propped up on one arm, watching him. He traced a finger over James’ forehead, down his nose. “You look better.”  
  
“I feel – magnificent, thanks to you. And well rested. How long have I slept?”  
  
“From yesterday afternoon, till this morning. You didn’t stir at all.”   
  
So it was morning, that explained it being so light outside. “It was like suddenly I had come to realise that we have escaped them for good. It doesn’t make much sense, but the bustling city, perhaps it was in such stark contrast to the empty roads and forests I got chased along, that it finally hit home.” He brushed his hand over his face. “I’m sorry, I must have seemed half mad to you these past days.”  
  
Michael moved closer. “I’m just glad you are alright again.” His kiss was slow and gentle. James sighed, more than happy to stay in bed share leisurely kisses with Michael and more. But Michael drew back much to soon.   
  
For a moment James thought Michael would maybe like to speed things up a little. “Do you want to...” James stopped himself midsentence just realising now Michael was already dressed in shirt and trousers. He had been too distracted to notice before.  
  
Michael smiled. “Later. I would have let you sleep, but we have to get a move on.”  
  
“You do not hear me complaining about waking me up. Not when you do it with your mouth.”  
  
“Well I hoped to sweeten it for you this way. You slept so firmly and seemed to need the sleep.”  
  
Despite feeling awake, James liked the thought of just staying in be a little longer, just a few moments. He stretched, pushing against the pillow. “Did you carry me into this bed yesterday, cause I distinctly remember falling asleep in the small room next door.”  
  
“You did. And I thought you would be more comfortable in here with me. But now, come!”  
  
“I already did.” James’ stifled a yawn, but Michael showed no mercy and threw James’ linen shirt at him. It landed right across his face. James gave a little huff, but pulled the shirt away from his face, trying to find the right way to slip it on.  
  
“We have a boat to catch!”  
  
+++  
tbc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ballad Michael is reading, is one of my favourites from since I was a kid. (I loved the spooky ones): Lenore by Gottfried August Bürger, written 1773.  
> (It’s about a young girl whose lover doesn’t return from the war. But one night her lover suddenly reappears at her door, telling her he will take her away to their bridal bed. It’s a long creepy ride through the night until they reach a graveyard and she realises her lover is dead and he takes her into his grave.) Hopefully that ballad is not a bad sign for Michael and James


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James and Michael travel by boat down the Danube. James poses as Michael’s servant. That brings more problems. Sorry, I just can’t give them a moments peace it seems.  
> Sulking Michael, wanton James, serious talks and light banter. All in one chapter!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was finished one week ago – or so I thought. One week, additional scenes and rewrites later, I present to you a larger chapter that turned out way more ‘complicated’ than intended. XD

The boat drifted slowly down the Danube, propelled only by the wide river’s flowing water. 30 meters long and 7 meters wide, the boat did look big, but when one was on it, and had no way to go but a few steps to either side, it quickly felt cramped.  
  
The five men steering the boat, among them the ships’ master, were on the roof of the wooden hut-like structure in the middle of the boat, steering it by means of three long wooden poles that had oar-blades at their base. The two men not working were resting, sitting on the edge of the roof and looking out over the water from their wide-brimmed hats. From time to time they called out irregularities in the water that they had spotted, or drew attention to something they saw on the shore. There seemed nothing else to do and the men seemed rather content with the slow way their travel went. Unlike Michael.  
  
He stood at the front of the boat, hands brace against the railing. There wasn’t much else for him to do. With not enough space to walk around, he could just sit and read, or stare out at the landscape. Mainly steep hills covered in a dense forest. From time to time a cart of some sorts, mostly drawn by oxen or sturdy looking horses, made their way along the small road that ran along the river. Only a few times did they passed another ship being pulled upstream by horses.  
  
Now and again a castle would peek out on the top of the hill. Some four-hundred years ago, most of them were thriving. They housed those that could call themselves lords over the river Danube, controlling all the commerce that came along the water road. Nowadays the taxes were collected in the harbours in the big cities and the castles were mainly inhabited by castellans or some poor sideline of the more important nobility.  
  
So really, the scenery was interesting for about half an hour, then it became dull to watch. And there wasn’t much change for days. James was curious about the castles they passed, but it seemed safer  if they kept up appearance of master and servant - for the first days of their journey on the river at least. And it simply was not befitting for a Lord to stand with his servants and just chat away with them – in English at that – so Michael had to stay alone and bored.  
  
The only place where they dared to talk, was the small crammed space that one might call a cabin. Even more rare than the space on the boat was the room in the little hut-like structure in the boat’s centre. There was space for storing goods, water, food  and where the men steering the boat could sleep in as well plus two separate areas. One was currently used by Ferdinand and James, the other reserved for Michael’s sole use. Officially that was the arrangement. The nights spent on the boat, after everyone retired to their designated place to sleep, James sneaked into Michael’s ‘cabin’.  
If the boat made it to one of the landing site that came with a bigger village and thus some sort of inn, they could escape the confining space on board and could sleep were there was more privacy.  
  
They attempted to be discrete, in particular when they stayed the nights on the boat. They tried to make no loud noise, but Michael loved to make James moan. Especially since James showed so much more restraint. He seemed far better in controlling himself, while Michael could hardly resist to touch that pale skin, running his hands over James’ naked body, feeling him writhe against him. It had been James who had played the voice of reason, cautioning him to wait every evening, so chances were good everyone was asleep and they less likely to be overheard. And last night James had only slipped into his cabin shortly, to tell him, that he thought it better if he didn’t spend the night with Michael.  
  
It made Michael want to growl, especially since he thought all the caution unnecessary. No one made any comments, so their little secret ‘affair’, along with the fact that James was not a mere servant, appeared to be safe.  
  
He admitted, there was the one or other odd glance in their direction. For example when Michael couldn’t resist, having to point out something about a castle they passed by leaning in close to James, trying to make sure no one noticed he was talking in English with his servant. But he was sure, that was merely surprise, about the familiarity he showed toward his servant.  
  
So he understood they had to keep a distance during the day, and resigned himself to be bored, but he thought it unnecessary to play it as cautious during the night. And even if the crew suspected that he was ‘taking advantage’ of his young servant, there was hardly a chance they would dare throw Fürst Fassbender into the river or do anything similar drastic. But apparently James thought differently.  
  
So Michael had slept alone, and badly so, last night and now found himself growing jealous of his own valet. While he was not at liberty to talk to his servant James - Ferdinand had the freedom to interact with him and keep him company. And Ferdinand had apparently taken it upon himself, to better James’ German. Not that Michael didn’t appreciate that, since from their first meeting he had frowned upon and wondered about James’ bad grasp of the language. But he wished he could just walk over to James to talk with him, put a hand on his shoulder, just touch him casually. _‘Next time we will switch roles completely. Ferdinand has to pose as Lord while James and I play servants.’_ Michael had to laugh at his own idea. He could already see how bad the two of them would be, making everyone wonder why ‘Lord Ferdinand’ was keeping two such useless servants, who were always gossiping with each other, instead of seeing to their duties.  
  
He looked over to where Ferdinand and James sat in the shade of the hut’s roof. James had looked up as he heard him, giving him a smile.  
  
Michael held his breath for a moment. He would have liked so very much to be able to kiss those red lips, while he looked deeply into the clear blue eyes that seemed to light up when James smiled. In a way, that smile was more tempting than James naked body.  
  
Michael turned around to face his ‘two’ servants. Damn it all. He would just walk over and talk to James. It was laughable that he couldn’t just do as he pleased. Before he could push himself away from the railing, James smile turned into a displeased frown and as he took a first step James was shaking his head and looked away. Michael froze. He looked toward the roof. None of the men there, neither the ones steering, nor the ones resting for the moment, showed any interest in him or what he was doing. Irritated Michael stalked the seven steps over to the other side of the boat. He glanced at James as he passed him, but James wasn’t looking up.  
  
Michael forced himself to look away. Still he was aware of James, mere meters away from him. If he strained his ears he could even make out the soft murmur of his voice, though he couldn’t understand what he was saying.  
  
They couldn’t reach Vienna soon enough.  
+++  
  
Michael had been feeling irritated the whole day. The sight of the landing site that came with houses and a sizeable inn, could raise his spirits only temporarily. And after James and Ferdinand had brought their most important belongings up to their designated rooms and joined him at the table in the public parlour, Michael’s mood had already plummeted down again.  
  
The inn’s patrons were eyeing him with a certain distrust and kept their distance and despite James and Ferdinand sitting at the same table as him, it was like there was a tangible distance between him and them.  
  
They ate, mostly in silence. Ferdinand made a comment about the rooms being better than in the last inn, which Michael commented on only with a short nod.  
  
Despite talking in German, James spoke softly, so no-one would overhear his strange accent and often not quite correct way of talking. “It’s nice something warm to eat to have. The food on the ship is not bad, but...” He shrugged, not finishing the sentence either because he didn’t know how to say it, or because it was only meaningless chatter anyway. Michael decided the reason was the latter and it made him tense. He gave James a short look, but didn’t comment. Instead he took deep interest in his tin cup, and the dark red liquid within. He had to admit, for a common inn, the wine didn’t taste half as bad as he expected.  
  
There was an odd pause, before Ferdinand took it upon himself to keep the conversation going. “The food on the boat gets somewhat boring. Just wait till we are in Vienna, my boy. I’m sure we will get a taste of variety in food there.”  
  
Michael put down the cup with more force than necessary. James looked at him, a mixture of worry and irritation showing on his face. What reason he had to be irritated was anyone’s guess. Michael was the one who was ignored and kept at a distance. He stood up. “I will take a stroll,” he announced and headed for the door, that led out into a small corridor from which he could either head for the staircase that went up to the rooms that were rented out, or outside. After the door closed behind him he noticed the hushed conversations and laughter inside picking up in volume. It was odd, rather like he had opened the door, than just closed it. _‘Of course’,_ Michael thought with a humourless smirk. _‘The peasants would feel ill at ease, with me present.’_ He was used to it, but for other reasons.  
  
He left the inn and started walking. He didn’t know the area, so he just went along the well trodden path, that led away from the building. It led him down to the river and then along its shore. For a moment he stopped and turned around. The shape of the inn was easy to make out, with its windows shining golden in the night. The light pooling out illuminated the grounds surrounding it as well. A dark shadow sped along the building and rounded its corner. Michael watched it go, then his gaze was drawn to the inn’s door again. He waited.  
  
The door stayed closed.  
  
Michael balled his hands to fists.  
  
He closed his eyes, taking slow breaths.  
  
His heartrate only seemed to pick up, letting the blood rush loudly through his ears, making him feel dizzy, lightheaded. His eyes snapped open and he shook his head, irritated. Goosebumps were rising all over his body.  
  
Quickly he turned and headed away from the inn and its closed door.  
  
What had just happened. It felt like the start when the demon took over, but that couldn’t just simply happen. He wasn’t able to do it without the pain.  
  
Michael walked faster. The way parted ahead, one going straight along the river, the other veering up the steep slope. He took the latter, the slight strain in his legs from walking upwards after staying penned in on a boat most of the time, a welcoming distraction. Suddenly the path ended at a big wooden gated. Looking to its left and right, Michael realised he had reached a paddock, probably for cows. Michael leant a against the fence for a moment, then sat down. He didn’t want to go back yet.  
  
Suddenly he heard a rustling in the grass behind him. Then there was hot breath spilling against his head and some big nostrils sniffing at him. Surprised he half turned and looked right at a horse, that had part of its head pushed between the fence’s beams. It jerked its head back as he moved. It was no horse for riding, but a smaller beast, used to work on the fields. Michael reached out a hand, letting the horse sniff at his flat palm. It brushed its lip over it before it drew back and left again, probably disappointed that he hadn’t anything interesting to offer. For a moment he wondered about his and James’ horse. They should be on their way as well. They had left them in Ulm, to be shipped out with another boat that was departing for Vienna some days later, it’s cargo solely animals. It’d made more sense to ship them separately. And buying new horses in Vienna would have been more expensive, plus he had put too much work into James’ horse already, somehow it felt like a waste, if they would leave it behind.  
  
Would James’ behaviour change even more, when they were in Vienna. He’d had James for himself, without having to concern himself with other people who would judge what he and James were up to.  
Damn Napoleon and his army. If it weren’t for them –  
  
-he would never have met James. And James wouldn’t have come back to him.  
  
He’d never thought he would want another human being that much.  
  
Michael sat there for some time longer, staring over the river, hills and houses covered in greys and blacks of the night.  
  
  
As he returned to the inn, the public parlour was still filled with people. Ferdinand was at the table were they sat first, smoking a pipe and nursing a cup of wine. There was no sight of James. Michael tried not to linger on the feeling of disappointment. He quickly walked over to Ferdinand, telling him he would retire for the night, but he didn’t require his help.  
  
“Take one of the candles with you, your Lordship. The staircase is absolutely dark. Your room is down the corridor, the last one on the left. Mine and young James’ is just on the opposite.”  
  
Michael just nodded and took the offered candle from the table and left the noise and light of the inn’s public area behind. Slowly he walked up the stairs, the sole candle managing barely to illuminate the well worn and uneven wooden steps. He headed along the long, windowless corridor. Still he could hear the voices, if muffled, from downstairs reach up here and he wondered if he would be able to sleep with the noise.  
  
He reached out to open his door but then stopped and looked darkly at the one opposite his. The one were James was probably already sleeping. Michael contemplated just walking in and – he wanted to grab James and carry him to his bed. He shook his head, no. If he walked in there, he would just pull James into his arms and, hold on to him.  
  
He turned away and pushed the door to his room open.  
  
As soon as he was inside, someone grabbed his arm suddenly and the door was pushed shut. Michael yanked his hand free and whirled to face his attacker, brandishing the candlestick like a weapon in front of him.  
  
Molten wax was dripping to the wooden floor. The flickering light illuminated James, completely naked, smirking at him.  
  
“You wont be needing that.” James voice sounded husky. Michael realised he had moved closer while he was staring, distracted, at the beautiful, muscled body. Up close he noticed some of the freckles on James shoulders, before his gaze slipped to James chest and his nipples looking dark and tempting against the rest of James pale body. He barely noticed as James plucked the candlestick from his hand. As James turned away to put it on a table, Michael’s gaze fixed on James naked butt.  
  
Suddenly James was right in front of him again, crowding against him and shoving him backwards. Michael stumbled slightly but moved where James wanted him to. “James?! What...?” He realised the heap of a blanket next to the door – had James been waiting there for him – but that thought got quickly pushed aside by James’ sultry voice.  
  
“Like a proper servant, I’ve been preparing everything for once his Lordship wishes to retire.”  
  
Michael found himself pushed against the bed and he saw no reason to resist and just sat down. James straddled him, cutting off any more talk by pressing his mouth against Michael’s. The kiss was hot and uncoordinated at first. While Michael tried to suck and bite James’ lips, James tried to push his tongue into his mouth. Finally Michael gave way, just letting James ravish him as he pleased, the feverish need raising goosebumps all over his body.  
  
For a moment Michael felt like something was unclenching around his chest.  
  
Michael’s hands clamped tightly around James’ body, fingers digging into tender skin. He let himself sink back, pulling James with him.  
  
James laughed, bracing his hands on Michael’s shoulders. “Let me undress you first!”  
  
But Michael didn’t feel patient, he pushed his head and shoulders up, trying to reach James’ neck or shoulders, grazing the soft skin with his teeth, before he got shoved back into the blankets by strong, demanding hands.  
  
“I said, let me undress you!” James’ repeated slowly and with a hint of command in his voice.  
  
“A bit commanding  for a mere servant, are you not?” But Michael stayed put this time, as James’ fingers moved over his chest, unbuttoning his waistcoat on the way, then loosening the lacing at the front of his shirt.  
  
“Mere servant by day, but ... “ James leant down, his hot breath brushing against Michael’s ear. “ let us see who is master in the bedroom.” Teasingly James licked over Michael’s ear, making him moan.  
  
Michael’s hands slipped down James’ back, squeezing his butt. His fingertips brushed over James’ hole. He couldn’t help it, he wanted to touch him everywhere. Realising what he had done he made to draw back. He had brought up the subject of buggery once. But James had told him he thought the whole act sounded rather - uncomfortable at best and thus undesirable. So Michael hadn’t pushed it.  
  
But he found James did neither flinch nor squirm, so he didn’t pull back, but pushed his finger against the yielding ring of muscles.  
  
James stopped to move. “Michael...”  
  
“I’m sorry. You told me not to, so I ... “  
  
James took Michael’s hands by the wrists, pushing them back above his head, pressing them down into the mattress. “It is flattering that you want all of me. Just... not now.” James bit his lower lip, before brushing his lips against Michael’s. “Later...”  
  
That little promise made Michael’s mouth go dry and he swallowed, then smiled. “Go on, you can have me any way you want, I’m willing to agree to everything.”  
  
+++  
  
The boat-master looked from Michael to James and back again. He seemed all but pleased about the ‘news’ Michael had just told him. They had asked to talk with him briefly in private, or what accounted for as private here on a small boat. So they had moved to the sleeping are of the crew that was used for storing the goods that were taken along with the passengers down the river. They were talking softly, to avoid any casual eavesdroppers.  
  
Blue eyes were looking judging at them through round glasses.  
  
“I do not want to imply that you were not to be trusted. If that were the case, we would have kept the Earl’s real identity secret, until we reached Vienna. But every other person knowing was a liability. We already encountered some unforeseen problems with French troops, that have become more and more present in some of the German kingdoms, as several German Lords seem to take the French side.”  
  
Slowly the boat-master took off his glasses and polished them, before putting them back on his hawkish nose. “So that is why you engaged in some idle talk about the war and the French before choosing to take passage with us.” He scratched his dark beard. “In a way I would have been glad if you had kept your little secret, until you were well off my boat, your Lordship. It does not do for a respectable boat-master to let himself be fooled like that. It might be held in my disfavour once I get back to Ulm and apply to be boat-master again.”  
  
“I am fully aware of that. This is why we came to see you first, before we revealed the Earl’s true identity to anyone – carelessly, so as not to surprise you. Might I suggest, no one needs to know, that you did not know the man posing as my servant was really a British Earl.” Michael waited, holding his breath. Some people took offence when one suggested they should simply lie. He had tried to phrase it as careful as possible, still he did not know the boat-master well enough to wager his reaction.  
  
“I am, very sorry, really.” James interjected this moment with haltingly spoken German, that managed to sound even more sincere through its lack of smoothness. Michael had to suppress a smile that sure would betray too much of the fondness he felt, as he heard James put newly learned words to good use.  “I wish not to cause any trouble for you, boat-master. It is my hide and seek game I have to with the French play. I hope not to pull other people into my problems. So not telling, seemed like a good thing.”  
  
The captain looked James, who was about his height, in the eye. “All right, I can hardly throw you off. Wouldn’t look good either. And as you know, I am not looking forward to be invaded by a French army. So making sure an English Diplomat can evade the French seems to be just the thing to do. There is only one other thing. The passage will leave us two more nights at a landing site were there is no inn, so we will have to sleep on the boat. But I cannot provide more space in here to sleep in. These boats are not designed for luxury, so we really only have these three separate spaces to accommodate two nobles.”  
  
Michael just waved a hand. “That is alright. I am sure we can make do. The Earl will just move from the smaller cabin he shares with my valet now and move into my quarter. That will be adequate.”  
  
There was an odd smirk showing briefly on the captains mouth but he nodded. “Very well then. I will tell the others about your ‘servant’s’ true identity and that when booking passage with me, you asked me to keep that a secret until your choosing – as well as about the change in accommodation.”  
  
“Thank you, boat-master.” Michael nodded curtly, then turned to head back outside.  
  
James made to follow. He almost had the door pulled close behind himself but then stuck his head back in to add his thanks. The boat-master had his back turned, murmuring to himself. “Change in sleeping arrangements, my ass.”  
  
“What?” James froze.  
  
The boat-master turned back to him, looking a little startled that James had overheard. He stiffened visibly.  
  
For a moment James hesitated, thinking of just ignoring the comment that burned cold in his stomach. As a servant he would have either protested loudly or be forced to ignore what was said behind his back. As an Earl, he couldn’t afford to have gossip spread. He stepped back into the room again, closing the door behind himself. “I assume, I have just now misunderstood you, for German I don’t speak or understand very well.”  
  
“I’m sorry, your Lordship. This was not meant as an accusation, just the ship is small and – it happens, liberties being taken, it is just surprising – what I want to say, it is none of my or my crews business.”  
  
James had his lips pressed firmly together, his brows furrowed as he listened to the explanation. The boat-master was visibly embarrassed. “This is correct. It is not your business.” James turned slowly and left. As he had pulled the door close behind him, his shoulders sagged. So believing no one on the tightly cramped boat had noticed or heard him slipping in and out of Michael’s quarters for the night had proven foolish, not to say stupid. They would have to be much more discrete from here on. No one had commented, but, as the captain had put it, it happened that liberties were taken of ones servant (no matter the gender). People might frown on the Lord, other nobles might not even do as much. But matters were perceived differently, if the two parties involved were two gentleman.  
  
Michael had headed back to the front of the boat. James was glad that he had to concentrate on where he stepped as he edged along the narrow stretch of planks that was left between the boat’s wall and the roofed structure in its centre, to be able to go back and forth. So he was able to avoid looking at the crew. He was sure some of them were looking at him.  
  
Michael waited for him at the door leading to his quarters, he reached out as James passed him, but James shied back. “Michael. Not now. We have to talk alone - but later. Now I need some fresh air.” He tried to keep his voice low and Michael had to lean closer to hear him. James moved to the front of the boat, the farthest away from everyone else on board, leaning against the railing. He didn’t look back, if Michael would follow him.  
  
They really needed to talk how to – proceed, but preferably where no-one saw them talking, no-one watching. Preferably at night, when everyone else was asleep and chances of being overheard were close to nil. Though it was ridiculous, since as soon as they were speaking English, no-one on this boat would know what they were talking about anyway. Yet James suddenly felt very self-conscious.  
  
Perhaps even last night at the inn had been a mistake. They sure hadn’t been quiet or cautious. But James had thought he deserved this. He had been reasonable all this time, he even stopped spending the night on the boat with Michael, so with thick walls between them and the world they really deserved to enjoy themselves for one night. Moreover Michael had reacted badly by James keeping a safe distance. He wanted to make sure Michael knew – without any doubt – how much he wanted him.  
  
He had got so used to the luxury of Michael’s estate where there were servants, but they had pretty much no-one important or dangerous to take the gossip too. And Michael and him sharing a bed seemed insignificant compared to the rumours of Michael being a demon.  
  
Slowly James resurfaced from his thoughts, his gaze focusing on the green forested hills, that rose steep and high on both sides of the river, forming a canyon. The intense green and grey sky looked calm and soothing, and he felt his shoulders relax.  
  
Michael did bid his time, before he stepped up to James, looking out as well, then slowly turning his head to direct his gaze at him. “Now I can at least talk to you again.”  
  
James nodded. Talking, exchanging pleasantries, hell even flirting should be possible, since they would be doing it in English. That shouldn’t raise suspicion. Apart from the fact that suspicions were already roused. He threw a glance at Michael. The look he gave him, so very pleased and like - he would like to take off his new clothes. (The clothes he had changed into when confronting the captain, the ones Michael had bought in Ulm, they weren’t tailored to fit but still fit better than any of Michael’s things and let him look more like an Earl again.)  
James laughed shakily. “We are doomed.”  
  
Michael smiled in answer. “I don’t know what made you say that now, but it seems like calling a demon doomed, is like calling the night dark.”  
  
James couldn’t resist. He reached out, putting his hand on Michael’s shoulder, squeezing it gently, then letting it linger. A touch like that would be considered innocent, would it not? Just a casual touch between friends. It probably would raise suspicions, if they avoided touching each other entirely. Like they had something to hide. His gaze locked on Michael’s lips. Kissing though would not count as a casual touch between friends. James licked his lips, pulled his gaze away from Michael to distract himself. His gaze locking on to a tower poking out of the thick canopy of trees. “So, now that it is alright for me to address you again without looking like an upstart servant with no manners, what can you tell me about this castle?” He pointed up the steep hill.  
  
Michael was surprised by the sudden change in topic. He followed where he was pointing with his eyes. “Oh, I have been there. It’s called Rannariedl.”  
  
“Ra-what?”  
  
“Ranna-riedl.”  
  
James managed to pronounce the first part but gave up on the second. “How come you have been there before?”  
  
“Grand tour. I spent a good year travelling from one court to another. My father insisted. Actually that is how I managed to form some very useful connections that led me to purchase the cargo vessels. My father wasn’t quite so happy about it. Nobility and trade are two things that should not be mixed, he thought. But I say, isn’t it the prerogative of nobility to do as we please?”  
  
“Well, strictly speaking, you are not conducting any trades yourself.”  
  
“No, but my name is entangled with the common trade business.”  
  
“You are lucky I am too much a diplomat that I kept my distaste about your lowly business conducting to myself. And since now those ships of yours might be a way for me back to Britain, I am willing to overlook that aspect of you entirely.” James said mock earnest.  
  
“I am so very glad I can be of some service to my English diplomat then.” Michael’s grave voice was betrayed by the slight twitching of his lips.  
  
James had to look away, avoiding temptation. For a moment he allowed himself to think ahead. Think of Britain, home – and Michael there with him. Michael would have to rely on him. He didn’t know how and where Michael would best fit into the workings of the court. If things went bad, he would find himself with nothing to do and too much time at his hands. He couldn’t ask of him to just be his - companion. That surely would provoke rumours and bad talk. James bowed his head to look down at the water, steadily pushing their boat along. As the river grew wider, so seemed the potential troubles. And he had thought getting chased by the French was the worst of it. But he was jumping ahead. He didn’t even know yet, if they would manage to get Michael’s ships in Vienna. First they had to steer the untested waters of the Viennese court. James grinned to himself. A few days on the water and he was thinking in ship-faring metaphors already.  
  
+++  
  
Night had fallen and the boat had been tied up at a lonely landing site. The small isolated farm close by, the only sign of civilisation, had been an opportunity to trade some fresh bread and milk to make dinner somewhat more varied, but there was no spare room to rent for the night. In addition it had started to drizzle, so everyone was staying on the tightly crammed boat to sleep.  
  
The room, now shared by Michael and James, was lit by a lantern. To keep up appearances Ferdinand had moved James pallet in here and now it was nearly impossible to move around, only a small stretch of floor remaining. James slipped in between the narrow space between the two ‘beds’. He pulled off his jacket and, after a moments indecision, threw it onto the pallet before he sat down on it.  
  
Michael was sitting on the other one just opposite. He gave him a sly grin. “It seems rather unnecessary, since you wont be using it. We should have told the captain we would make do with one bed – in good friendship.”  
  
The words, intended as a joke, only made James wince, driving home the point he wanted to talk with Michael about. “It does seem rather unnecessary, yes. Because everyone on board this ship already knows or suspects.”  
  
Michael raised an eyebrow. He put the book he had just been browsing down and leant slightly forward. “Did anyone say anything untoward.”  
  
James hesitated. He did not want to tell Michael what he had heard the captain mutter under his breath, since it had not been directed directly at him, yet he needed to make Michael understand. “Not directly towards me, but I – overheard some talk.”  
  
“Are you certain you heard correctly, maybe you simply misunderstood the meaning of the words.”  
  
James shook his head. “No. And even if. The point is, we  - at your estate, there was only you and the servants. No one we had to be careful around. No one who was in any position to judge what we did and use it against us. But once we reach Vienna, its court, there will be people watching us, talking, commenting. We want to get back your ships, so we can’t provide them with a weak spot to exploit and use against our endeavours.”  
  
Michael reached out. He took James hand and pulled it closer to his lips. There was a warm smile playing around his lips. He didn’t look the least bit concerned.  
  
“Michael! Have you been listening to what I said.”  
  
“Yes. I like the way you say us and our.”  
  
James blushed and his heartbeat quickened as Michael brushed his lips over his hand. But no, he couldn’t let himself be distracted. “We have to stop this.  
  
The instant he said it, Michael’s hand tightened around his, squeezing hard, echoing the feeling in James’ chest. He leant closer and put his hand reassuringly against Michael’s neck. Fingers brushing the skin and entangling them with Michael’s hair. “We have to stop being so careless! Or it will cost us! Didn’t you notice the way you touched my shoulder today when we were speaking with the captain, or outside, on deck, when you leant closer. We can’t allow ourselves those – liberties anymore. Even in private. There will be servants, servants reporting to other Lords and Ladies.  
  
“James, listen. You worry to much. I know the courts, I’ve been there, and believe me, Vienna, like any other court in Europe, has those that will not bend down to common decencies. You will find married men and women slipping off into other peoples beds at their leisure. I’ve even heard that one of the emperors aunts has had an affair with her brother’s wife! There are always rumours flying about. But as long as you are discrete with what you are doing...” Michael shook his head, “and a simple touch won’t be condemning.”  
  
“It wouldn’t be if we were just two visiting nobles, but we have something the emperor will want  - the information about Napoleons plans – and we want something from the emperor in return. We can’t risk that by giving him something else to extort us with.  
  
Besides we are both unfamiliar with the workings of the Viennese court. We can’t know who to trust... I hope there might still be a diplomat from Britain deployed there, but I’m not sure. Not with the way Europe is put upside down by the French at the moment.”  
  
James noted satisfied that Michael’s face had grown more earnest, that he had listened. “I wont loose you. Neither one way nor another.”  
  
James puzzled a little over the cryptic words, but Michael pulled him closer. “I promise I will be cautious. I CAN look behind closed doors, looking if someone is watching or listening in. If it takes that to keep us a secret I will do it. And should there be someone, who needs to be silenced, I will do that too, without any suspicion falling on either of us.”  
  
Those words let a chill run down James’ spine, but he pressed his lips together and after a moment, nodded.  
  
Michael’s fingers brushed against his cheek, then his lips. Slowly James’ relaxed, mouth opening under the insistent caress. “Thank you. It’s not as if I could stay safely away from you, even if I tried.”  
  
Michael smiled before he kissed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \+ Please excuse James’ bad grammar, I tried to show how he is still struggling with German while writing the dialogue in English. Hope it comes across somehow.
> 
> \+ The rumour about mentioned at the end about Emperor Franz II./I. of Austria’s aunts is not made up. ^_^ Isabella of Parma, (first) wife of Emperor Joseph II was said to have had an affair or at least be in love with her sister-in-law Marie Christina, Duchess of Teschen.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael and James have finally reached Vienna. The diplomatic dance begins, but James finds himself hard pushed not to let his relationship with Michael distract him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took longer than intended – again. June is always crazy and exhausting at work. 
> 
> So this is the start of the Vienna-Arc of the fic. Which means, the end of the story is slowly coming in sight. I’ve sketched out the chapters ahead and the way it looks, there will be 8 more before the story draws to a conclusion. That’s just an estimate though. There might be some changes depending how long the chapters get and if I get any more ideas that I feel have to be included.   
> Thank you to all who have read this far, who waited patiently for the updates. Hope you stick with it to the end. (OMG, I’m already getting all teary-eyed. XD)

May 1805 – City of Vienna  
  
James leant over to the window of the carriage, peering out. It made a loud noise as it rattled over cobblestones, the sound mixing with that of barking dogs, horses, people talking or shouting at one another; the sound of a busy pulsing city, filled with people going about their business – in peace. The rented carriage, black and nondescript, approached the city gates, that stood wide open. The carriage slowed down somewhat, getting in line with the ongoing traffic that left the city. “One would think this early in the morning, there would be more people coming in, than leaving.” James glanced over at the streets opposite. Carts loaded with goods (mainly food) entered through the gate, headed for one of the cities markets probably or directly to one of the many inns and newly built hotels.  
  
Michael leant closer, moving so he could throw a glance over the top of James head. His hand shortly touched James thigh, squeezing gently, before he drew it back again. Michael had started with those little touches soon after they had the discussion about the need to be discreet in public. First James had frowned a little, feeling that Michael was simply disregarding his worries. Then he realised that Michael was discreet, keeping the small touches to when they were alone or at least unobserved, like now, hidden in a carriage amidst a crowd of people.  
  
James smiled to himself.  
  
“With the emperor and his whole court residing in the summer-palace of Schönbrunn, more people are drawn out there as well. Like flies to honey.”  
  
James looked back at Michael. “Like us.”  
  
Michael nodded, echoing his words. “Just like us. I was actually surprised we got an audience only five days after our arrival. Even if it it’s not with the Emperor himself, but his Vice-chancellor, Graf Cobenzl. But he’s well respected, obviously, and clearly a stepping stone to what we want.”  
  
“I remember, he was adamant in his work for the treaty between Britain, Russia and Austria some ten years ago.” James bit his lips, deep in thought. “As far as I recall he has a reputation to be very much against Napoleon, well anything that threatens the old order, really. So perhaps we can gain some sympathy and trust for our cause, if we mention the close calls we had with the French.”  
  
Michael sat up straight again and moved his shoulders, as if trying to dislodge some cramp in his back.  
  
“Everything alright?”  
  
Michael sighed. “This will not be the only visit to court, before we get anywhere.”  
  
“You don’t sound overly exited about the prospect. Maybe we will be invited to some festivities too.” At that prospect, Michael only gave a unimpressed snort. James hid a smile. “Weary of the diplomatic dance already?” It wasn’t as if he was looking forward to it himself, but for of Michael’s teasing of James being an undiplomatic diplomat, Michael was a lot less patient and prone to let his annoyance show all to quickly.   
  
Michael threw James a sideways glance and smiled. “ Mhm. Not everyone  is as charming as my English diplomat. I might tear someone’s head off, if they get on my nerves too much.”  
  
James put his hand on Michael’s shoulders and looked fondly at him. “I will do my utmost to keep my demon in check.”  
  
Michael’s smile widened then turned into a grin, all teeth and with a sinful glint in his eyes.   
  
James laughed. “Smile at them like that, and everyone will run screaming. They might even offer some more ships, just to make sure we sail far, far away and never come back.”  
  
Michael stopped smiling, but leant closer. The way he whispered against James ear might have seemed like an inconspicuous gesture of familiarity at first glance, but Michael’s lips brushed lightly over the other man’s earlobe and his tongue flicked out wickedly. “If you continuo with saying ‘our’ in front of the Vice-chancellor, I wont guarantee not to ravish you – right then and there.”  
  
James shivered, for a moment his gaze flicked to the windows of the carriage. It was unlikely anyone from the bright outside could look into the gloom and make out anything of what was going on inside. Especially a they just passed through the wide archway in the city walls. Michael’s warm breath, still caressing over his cheek and neck, pulled back his attention. “No need to loose your composure like that. Better keep that for the privacy of our rooms at the hotel. Since there is no urgent business to attend to, we can head back straight there afterwards.” The idea of spending the rest of the day in bed with Michael was a very tempting one. Finally they had some time to spend at their leisure.  
  
Michael’s gaze narrowed. “You promise you wont insist of heading into your own rooms first and then leave me waiting – like last night?”  
  
James turned his head, so his lips were inches from Michael’s. He looked mock-stern for a moment. “You are spoiled. You could have come to my rooms too.”  
  
Michael raised an eyebrow. “But I rather enjoy if you come – for me.”  
  
The words sent a spark of lust directly to James groin. He pressed his lips firmly together, stifling a moan. He forced himself to draw back, leaning against the carriage seat. Michael’s pleased chuckle made him ball his hands to fists, so he wouldn’t just reach out, and...  
  
The carriage was shaking and rattling. James, grateful for the distraction, looked out. They just passed over the ramp and bridge construction, that spanned the wide ditch surrounding the city walls. Another bump, marked them getting off it and the carriage rolled more smoothly again along the wide tree lined road that crossed the spacious field that lay between the inner city and its outer districts. Those were made up of palaces of the nobility with spacious parks and houses for that part of the population who found no accommodation behind the city-walls more cramped quarters.   
  
Slowly James allowed his attention to be drawn from the unfamiliar surroundings back to Michael. “You never told me, if you have been to the summer palace before.”  
  
Michael shook his head. “No. The time I was her, it was winter, first months of the year, actually. So the whole of the Emperors court resided at the Hofburg in town. A lot of masked balls were held at the time, so a lot of opportunities to get to know people. I guess it would be easier for us, if it were still winter. On the other hand, that palace is a maze. We would have to be more wary of spies. They can’t account for all people coming and going, I’m sure.”  
  
James nodded. On their stroll through the city on their first day of arrival, Michael had shown him the Hofburg from the outside. “But there will be parties and festivities now as well. If we can’t convince the Vice-chancellor, those should be our next target. I have no idea yet, how we can get invited, though making our arrival more known might spark someone’s curiosity to ensure an invitation.” James sighed, it sounded simple enough, but: “To finally reach someone important in the cabinet of ministers or even the Emperor that way, would be tedious though.”  
  
“So we will have to make sure we impress the Vice-chancellor and spark his curiosity. For I doubt he will agree to simply give me back my property. I guess whatever the outcome, there will be an amount of social gatherings for us to attend to, before we achieve our goal; yet there should be enough time to get you properly outfitted again, before the first one – even with more cravats.” Michael reached out and tugged at the cravat, currently tied neatly around James neck. James batted the hand away. His fingers brushed against the lace-trimmed fabric, self-consciously making sure everything was in place, before he smoothed his hands down over the new waistcoat he was wearing, finally tugging at the sleeves of his jacket. That had been one of the first things they had done upon arrival, making sure that he looked the part of a British Earl again and not like some ragtag spy.  
  
They had been lucky. They had found a tailor, who had an outfit ready made, but the person it had been intended for, had not been able to pay. So James snatched it up and with only a few adjustments, it had been made to fit him perfectly.  
  
“Don’t worry, you look perfectly presentable again.” Michael was suddenly close again, pushing down the cravat and grazing James tender skin with his teeth, making him shiver. “And ready to be ravished.”   
  
James’ gaze quickly darted to the window, then he moved quickly. He pushed Michael back with one arm and held him in place, straddling his lap. He lent closer, his forehead touching the other man’s who grinned excitedly. “Stop making this harder as it already is. Or I really will head straight for my room tonight and lock the door.”  
  
Michael’s grin wavered for a moment. He knew when he had pushed James too far; far enough that he would make good of his words. Michael moved to brush his lips against James, the kiss gentle. “Forgive me. But it’s like with the cravats, when you wear them, I feel tempted to pull them off. When you keep your distance, I feel tempted to get closer, to get under your clothes, under your skin.” There was sleight hesitation in Michael’s voice. “To make sure you are still mine.”  
  
James felt his mouth go dry and he closed his eyes. The gentle whispered words had a deeper effect, than the teasing touches before. For a moment he stopped thinking about his surroundings and put his hands against Michael’s chest. Was he really still worried, James could change his mind? Perhaps he should tell Michael, how he felt, that he was his, heart and soul. That he – loved him. But he suddenly felt odd and awkward. How would it sound if he said it out loud? He couldn’t. “You know that.”   
  
Michael looked into his eyes. From so close, James felt like his eyes were drawing him in. Michael’s hand moved up his chest, resting where James’ heart beat strongly. “Know what?” So Michael wanted that answer, regardless if he knew already? James grew nervous. He licked his lips, testing out the words in his head again. _‘I’m yours... yours anyway. I love you...’_  
  
The carriage drove over a bump in the road, the shock made James slip and he toppled to the ground. He felt hot and cold at once, like someone had surprised him and thrown him into an icy cold stream. He laughed. “It seems I still haven’t learned how to sit properly in a carriage. My mother was always in despair about that. Though I climbed on the seats, not on someone’s lap.” And she would hardly approve of that either. Especially if she found out... James shook his head and got up, sitting down properly next to Michael again. “I hope the talks today will go less bumpy then our ride. Perhaps next time we should take the horses.”  
  
 _'Saved by a hole in the ground.'_ James decidedly pushed the thought aside.  
  
Michael frowned at him, but James went on, looking straight ahead. “Though I guess for a first impression, the carriage lends more weight to ones appearance and one avoids looking mud-splattered. It’s all a matter of looking the part at court. Looking important.” James fingers fiddled with his cravat. “First impressions – it all depends on that. It would go more smoothly, if I knew if there was a British Ambassador in place still and who it was. But with no contacts at court, no way presents itself to acquire that information and without smoothly completing the audience, no contact to the court. I’m not even sure, if I should ask about the British representative today. It might make me look ignorant and uninformed. Though the Vice-chancellor might raise the question, why I didn’t try to contact him first.” James started biting his lip.  
  
For a moment the carriage was filled with silence. Finally Michael murmured softly. “You fret too much. Think about it like that. Despite you having come blundering into my estate in the middle of the night and showing a distinct lack of grace or gratitude, I was charmed enough to want to seduce you to my bed.”  
  
James felt a blush creep up from beneath his cravat, tingeing his cheeks red, but he laughed. “Oh, you think whatever I do, the Vice-chancellor is sure to fall for my charm.”  
  
“He is merely human. He wont be able to resist you.” Michael reached over and put his hand on James’ leg, gently rubbing over it.  
  
+++  
  
It only took a quarter of an hour, from the centre of Vienna to reach the gates of Schönbrunn palace. On horseback the travelling time would be considerably less. _‘Next time’,_ James thought, hopeful that this would go down well enough, for there to be a next time soon. They had discussed strategies for the rest of the carriage ride. It had been easy to ignore what Michael had said and wanted to hear from him. Now his thoughts got distracted by the huge sprawling building, painted in white and pale grey. The courtyard, stretching between gate and palace itself, must have been some 100 meters in length. It allowed to take in the whole of the palace in one gaze, once one passed the outer gates. James looked over to the outbuildings, that were connected to the palace on each sides and then grew out from there. As big and winding the winter palace in the city had looked, the summer palace gave the impression to be vast, reaching out and encompassing its surroundings, and the people therein. And there were a lot of them, going about their business. Some servants, easily distinguishable  by their clothes, and as easy to make out, the noble courtiers. There was a constant ebb and flow of people, with carriages driving back and forth, bringing new visitors, while picking up others.  
  
Their carriage rattled over cobblestones, heading straight for the graceful curving outside staircase in the centre of the palace. The effect was well calculated. As the palace drew closer, everything grew larger to the eye. The windows, the pillars, the curving archways underneath the stairs. One started to feel smaller, the closer one got. What had been impressive at first glance, became intimidating.  
  
James realised the archways underneath the stairs were wide and tall enough to admit a whole carriage into the building. All that was barring the way, were elaborately wrought iron gates, painted green and with dashes of gold here and there. Finally the carriage stopped. James took a deep calming breath and waited.  
  
A servant in a cream-coloured livery rushed forward and opened the door. James exchanged one last look with Michael, before he stepped out. The bright sunshine couldn’t reach down here where the palace threw its massive shade, and James was glad he didn’t have to stand there blinking owlishly into the sun. He took some steps away from the carriage, waiting for Michael to join him and taking his time to examine his surroundings. They were well on time, so no need to rush forward and trip over any stumbling blocks in protocol.  
  
There were guards in red and gold uniforms positioned at the five huge archways, though four of them were closed. Only at the one on the right, the iron gate stood open and a rather self-important looking official waited there. The man made no attempt to come forward.  
  
Michael had taken his time as well. He had watched their carriage depart, before he stepped up to James. He did not show if he was impressed, or that his own estate, main building, outhouses and garden, would have easily fitted into the courtyard alone. James started walking forward. He noted the official’s eyes flicker towards them, but otherwise his face stayed impassive. James headed for him and stopped beside the man, giving him a mere sideways glance. Leisurely he pulled the letter of invitation out of his breast-pocket and offered it to the official. The man took it with a slight bow, opened and read the letter, then checked the book that lay open on the lectern close by. He handed the letter back, this time bowing deeper. James thought it entirely possible to measure the man’s bows according to the station of the aristocracy he addressed it to –down to an inch in their exactness.  
  
“Earl Mcavoy, Fürst von Fassbender.” The servant was addressing the in French, courtesy to James’ native language not being German, he gathered. “Vice-chancellor Count Cobenzl awaits you in the Rosa-drawing room.” He haughtily waved to someone who was hidden in the shadows of the stairs. Another servant, dressed in the same livery as the one who had opened their carriage door, stepped forward. He bowed. “If you please will follow me.”  
  
James stepped through the archway. He didn’t turn to look around, but felt him being close behind. Wordlessly they followed the servant. James tried to look around, without being to obvious about it. The floor they walked on was made of wooden blocks, sunk into the ground like the cobblestones outside. The walls were white, only the decorative plaster was gilded. There were no chandeliers in the big entrance area. Briefly James wondered how they lit this place at night. Well perhaps he would have the chance to find that out sometime soon. The windows to one side were huge, but all barred with iron rods. This was not a place to sneak into as easily, as he had done at Kurfürst Karl Friedrich’s summer palace. The guards at every gate alone made it difficult. But they could hardly guard the whole length of the wall. There would be entrances only used by the servants. James stopped his thoughts. He was forgetting, he was not a spy. He had to admit though, he had enjoyed the very straightforward excitement of spying, and breaking into a palace, more.  
  
They turned right and headed along a wide corridor, that still was wide enough to admit a carriage. It led straight to another massive archway, that seemed to open up to an inner courtyard. But before they passed through there, the servant opened a wide door to the right that led to a wide staircase.  
  
James looked up as they ascended. Huge windows gave the staircase an airy feel, that was accentuated by a fresco with its clouds and blue sky populated by mythological creatures. Clearly it was made to impress, nevertheless James oddly started to feel at ease – until he realised Michael was touching his back, keeping it light and unobtrusive. James turned his head to look back. Michael was looking impassively ahead. His hand lingered for a moment longer at James’ back, before he drew it away.  
  
James frowned slightly, but not because of Michael’s carelessness. He missed the touch. It took him a moment to look away again. If only this didn’t bode badly for them both.  
  
At the top of the stairs they went left into a large room. The grandeur of the place was emphasised by the sparse furniture composed of a few benches and stools placed along the walls.   
  
The servant bid them wait here and then left. The imposing doors they had come through were pulled shut and they were left all alone.  
  
Michael’s gaze swept the room, before he stepped towards one of the windows overlooking the big courtyard. James stayed right were he had stopped in the centre, hands clasped behind his back, trying to look at ease. He stared off into space, trying to ignore the odd silence, that suddenly stretched between Michael and him. He wanted to go up to Michael, put his hand on his arm, simply touch him. But here, were the walls might have eyes, it meant a not redeemable social suicide. James closed his eyes.  
  
Suddenly the door on one end of the room was pushed open by a servant. It could have been the same one, who had brought them here, but James wasn’t entirely sure. With the liveries and expressions of disinterest worn like masks by the servants here, they all looked alike. “Vizekanzler Graf Cobenzl ist bereit Euch zu empfangen.” The German was spoken with a certain precision, unlike what his ears had had to endure in the city, and not to complicated for James to follow.   
  
Michael, who had turned away from the window, now strode up to the door, passing right by James. James fell into step with him.  
  
The room they walked into was a small drawing room with two high windows. Huge paintings of picturesque landscapes dominated the room. They were covering two of the walls, making the room seem smaller than it was. Chairs were placed along the walls, while at its centre stood a desk that held several stacks of paper. Behind it stood a round-faced man. He was in his early fifties and wore a dark waistcoat decorated with several medals. The cut of his clothes spoke of the man’s age as well as of the formalities of court, that refused to follow any new frivolities of fashion. “Fürst von Fassbender, Willkommen am Hof seiner kaiserlichen Majestät Franz II. Und darf ich sagen, es ist mir eine Freude Euch erneut in Wien begrüßen zu dürfen. Ihr werdet Euch vielleicht nicht mehr erinnern, aber wir haben uns bei einem der Bälle seiner Majestät kennengelernt. Ihr habt gerade auf Eurer Kavalierstour Station in Wien gemacht. ”   
  
“Graf Cobenzl, vielen Dank, dass Ihr uns so kurzfristig eine Audienz gewährt. Zu gütig, dass Ihr Euch noch an mich erinnert.” Michael and Graf Cobenzl nodded their heads respectfully towards each other.  
  
James tried to follow the conversation, though with Graf Cobenzl’s weird accent and way of speaking threw him off. It was much easier to keep up with Michael’s part of the conversation, who’s accent and voice he was so very used to. Apparently they had met before, but probably just briefly, since Michael never mentioned it.  
  
“Darf ich Euch vorstellen, meinen guten Freund aus Großbritannien, Earl Mcavoy...”  
  
James stepped up and did a slight bow as well. “Es ist mir eine Ehre.”  
  
“Earl, it is a pleasure to welcome you here in Vienna. Ah, but you do speak German.” Cobenzl had switched to English, speaking with a heavy accent, but still it was easier to follow, than his German.  
  
 James smiled. “Only a little, I am afraid I have to admit. But your English is excellent.”  
  
Graf Cobenzel gave a small chuckle. “A remnant of my extensive travels as a diplomat. As I understand it, you yourself are in the diplomatic service?”  
  
James nodded. “That is correct. Though I am not here in my role as diplomat today.”  
  
“Indeed, it is not a British matter that brought us here, but a German one. One regarding my property to be precise. The Earl is merely here as a friend.” Michael interjected, drawing the conversation back on track, though he stuck with English.  
  
A slight frown appeared on Cobenzl’s forehead. “ Ah, yes, you mentioned that in your letter when you requested the audience. But please, do sit down.” He gestured to the chairs standing in front of the desk and sat down himself behind it.  
  
After they had taken their seats, Michael took a moment, before he started. “You see, there seems to have been a misunderstanding, of sorts.”  
  
James relaxed back into his chair, while Michael laid out the details. He maintained a pleasant smile on his face, while he kept a close eye on the Vice-chancellor. James got the impression the man knew very well the agenda of Michael’s request for an audience. Though he seemed to puzzle about James’ presence, his small pale eyes flickering ever so slightly towards James now and then. James kept his face neutral.  
  
“I really do see the necessity of Emperor Franz II. to gather his resources and that a strong army that opposes Napoleon is in the best interest of Europe – and thus my interest was well.” Michael’s voice was like honey, all soft and sweet. “But you will agree that the ships are still my property and I can demand them back – or compensation in whatever form I see fit.”  
  
Graf Cobenzl looked as if he just tasted something sour. The expression only lasted a moment though, before he had his face composed again. “Yes of course. And I am truly sorry, this happened. I am certain our officials weren’t aware of the true matters of ownership, or we would have contacted you. But as matters stand, it is hard to retract the orders now. The ships have already been integrated in our naval structure and it will be hard to even locate the right ships that belonged to you.”  
  
Michael raised his hands, fingers splayed and put the tips of his fingers against each other. He smiled, but it held a certain edge. “I see.”  
  
“I am not saying that we do not want to do our utmost to correct the matter. I am simply stating that it will be rather complicated. I will have someone go through the necessary papers; it will take time though.”  
  
“Time during which my property might be used in battles or for cargo runs that risks them to be sunk by the French fleet?” The sharp edge in Michael’s voice was unmistakable.  
  
 The Vice-chancellor looked shocked. “Now I really hope this wont happen.”  
  
Michael leant forward. James felt the hair at his neck prickle at the sudden tension that filled the room. “Excuse me interrupting. Now as I understand it, you, that is the Austrian Empire, did not realise the true property situation of the confiscated ships. But to find the exact whereabouts of the ships now, find the papers that were signed for those precise ships and examine Fürst von Fassbenders claims” James held up his hands in a soothing gesture to stop Graf Cobenzl from interjecting (and Michael as well) “which of course you must do, though you do believe his word of course. So when this process is set in motion, it will take – a very long time, for Fürst von Fassbender to get his property back.” James weighed his words, trying to find the right course that would lead to mentioning their ‘bribe’. “It is a terrible waste of resources of course, with the Austrian Empire at the brink of war with Napoleon.”  
  
The Vice-chancellor nodded, looking mournful. “I’m glad you understand the dilemma.” He threw a hopeful glance towards Michael.  
  
James licked his lips. “If you had information about Napoleons plans, that would make it easier for you to prepare your defences and counterattacks – freeing said resources.”  
  
Cobenzl’s eyes snapped back towards James. James looked back with a smile, all innocent like. Despite looking the man in the face he noticed, how the Vice-chancellor had started stroking the armrest of his chair with one hand. James tried to observe while staying impassive, not showing the tension he felt himself, while he hoped he got the man’s interest piqued.  
  
Michael stood up. “I fear we have been wasting your precious time. If I can’t get my own ships back, I will have to seek a new investment.  
  
The Vice-chancellor’s shoulders moved up. He looked positively bristling. “Now – that is too harsh. You really didn’t waste my time. If I may, Earl Mcavoy, just out of curiosity, I understand you came to Vienna with Fürst Fassbender, but how come your interests are so closely linked?”  
  
James felt his heartbeat quicken. The perfect opportunity. “I’m in his debt. He saved my life, when the French dispatched a squadron to regain some documents that came to be in my possession. Actually, I own him twice, since before that his offered hospitality saved me from freezing to death.”  
  
“You speak of documents, and mentioned French plans before...”  
  
“Yes, I was indeed. But I fear we really should waste no more of your time.”  
  
Graf Cobenzl’s gaze moved from one to the other. James licked his lips, it was tempting to try and push a little further, to see if he could make the man actually squirm with the need to ask more questions. But then he stood up. The Vice-chancellor was well versed in the game of diplomacy. He would not act rashly and make an offer right away, without gathering all the information he could.   
  
Cobenzl stood too. “I am truly sorry I couldn’t do anything for you right away. There might still be possibilities to  correct the matter. I will look into it.” The words were noncommittal, yet James rated it as a positive success for a first talk.  
  
+++  
  
The servant escorted them down the staircase again. James stifled a sigh. He surely had not missed the formalities of a royal court. He looked at Michael, who was walking in front of him, his back looking stiff. James resisted the urge to reach out and rub his hand over his back to ease the stiffness out of it. He couldn’t wait to be out of here. Away from the ever watchful eyes of the court. Though he wouldn’t be surprised, if the Vice-chancellor would not make sure they weren’t under close scrutiny wherever they went now.  
  
Lost in thought James paid the clatter of running footsteps on the marble stone floor no heed, though it should have alerted him. Someone defying all the rules of court by running through the palace. So the sudden shout coming from the top of the stairs took him by surprise and nearly made him stumble.  
  
“Mcavoy! James? Is that you? By God, it is!”  
  
James looked up and spotted the familiar face, crowned by blonde curls, peer down at him. James blinked in disbelieve. “Thomas?!” So Britain had an Ambassador at the Austrian court.  
  
He had hoped for a British ally here, who would help him uphold the interest of the British Crown. Someone who could help him gain access to all the important people at court. What he hadn’t expected to find was someone he knew well and could even call a friend. A huge smile spread on his lips. “My, my, who would have though. Duke Hiddleston finally has managed to disentangle himself from his duties at home, to conquer the courts of Europe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ehehehehehe! Hope you don’t mind the cameo, I just couldn’t resist.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While James is thrilled to find an ally in Duke Hiddleston, ambassador to the Viennese court, Michael is less excited. Part of him, that demonic part, decides to do something about it, he might yet come to regret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Mcfassy-Tuesday-Birthday to ME! XD Had to celebrate the fact that my birthday is actually on Mcfassy-Tuesday this year. So celebrate with me and have a piece of fanfic!
> 
> Warning: Contains one Tom Hiddleston! XD Also, this got rather a bit emotional and angsty.
> 
> Edit: Look! The wonderful ohteepeeh made a gorgeous manip for this chapter.  
> http://ohteepeeh.tumblr.com/post/26913088314/dear-issabella-happy-birthday-here-have-a  
> Thank you! <3

Michael kept his eyes on James. He walked right behind the smaller man, staying close enough to touch, while restraining himself from doing so. They weren’t alone after all. Michael’s gaze flicked over to the tall man walking beside James. He was taller than Michael himself. Michael had to look up at him, what strangely irked him. His eyes were a pale blue-green and his head was crowned by a mop of blonde

curls. The hair reminded him of the paintings of angels in the chapel. Michael gritted his teeth.  
  
James was in an animated conversation with the man, recounting his tale of how he came to be here in Vienna. Michael only followed the conversation with half an ear. He tried to get enough of the edited details James told though, so he could match the tale should questions arise. James left out Michael’s powers and their more intimate encounters.  
  
The more mesmerised was the British Ambassador. Michael watched discontented, how the man seemed to literally hang on James’ lips, all attentive – like an oversized pup.  
  
James had been talking so often about his hope of finding an ally here – and it looked he found exactly that, and more. A friend. As which this Thomas, Duke Hiddleston, had been introduced.  
  
The two of them had been smiling and assailing each other with questions. Finally the Duke had dismissed the servant that had been tasked to take them back outside and had insisted they come for a walk in the beautiful and vast gardens of Schönbrunn. To marvel at its beauty – and get away from any prying ears.  
  
It was beautiful, and as impressive as the palace itself. They had come out the back of the building, under yet another monumental outside staircase. The garden stretched hundreds of meters to the foot of a hill. At its base an enormous fountain dominated the view, while the hilltop was crowned with a huge arched structure, that had no function, but to make one feel small, it seemed.  
  
They had walked aimlessly at first, veering to the left of the garden, heading for the shelter and shade of tree lined alleys and endless hedgerows. Over it all wafted the smell of flowers and greenery.  
  
“We might as well take the opportunity, and I’ll show you the fountain this place was named after.”  
  
Michael’s attention was pulled back. “Der schöne Brunnen?”  
  
Duke Hiddleston turned to look at him, as if just now remembering his presence. All British diplomats seemed to have a certain undiplomatic streak to them. “Ah, yes. You have been here before, Fürst Fassbender?”  
  
“Schönbrunn, no. Only to Vienna and the Hofburg, though that lies more than 10 years in the past.”  
  
“Is the fountain really that beautiful?” James asked curiously.  
  
Duke Hiddleston laughed. “Not really, no. The name refers to the water and its delicious taste – for plain water.”  
  
James frowned. “I hadn’t known you could use the word ‘schön’ for something tasty.” Questioning he looked at Michael.  
  
“Not really, no.” He shrugged.  
  
“Not even in poetry?” A mischievous smile played around James lips; it made Michael relax.  
  
“So far I haven’t read it used in that context, but then there are some peculiarities of German they use in Austrian dialect. It might stem from there.”  
  
They had walked along while talking, passing through a shady grove. Michael glanced back over his shoulder, trying to get his bearing as to where the palace stood, though he couldn’t make it out between the hedges and trees. Of course, that was not something to confess in front of his little lost diplomat.  
  
“This way.” Duke Hiddleston led then out from the trees. They crossed a wide path, only to get lost again in rows of hedges, that seemed to have been planted in circles, with trails intercutting the circles at different intervals.  
  
They had to cross another wider alley before they came to the ‘beautiful fountain’. It really was a lot less spectacular than the name implied. It consisted of a square building; the walls made to look as if dripping water had left the surface full with stalactites.  
  
Michael watched James, as he ran his hands along the walls, before he entered the grotto-like building. The water of the well came from an amphora, held by a water-nymph, and flowed into a huge marble shell. James bent close to taste the water, letting the clear liquid fill his cupped hands, before he bent down to drink from them.  
  
Michael glanced over to Duke Hiddleston, who had stayed silent for the past minutes – finally. He seemed lost in thought, a little frown showing on his forehead.  
  
If they were alone, he would go over to James, steal a sip of water from those hands and then proceed to lick all the drops of water from James’ lips.  
  
Michael felt eyes on him. He looked at Duke Hiddleston, who was glancing over his shoulder, directly at him. His expression was a mixture of puzzlement and weariness. Almost too late Michael realised, that a fond smile had gentled his own expression, and he quickly tried to erase any traces of it. Instead he frowned darkly at the Duke, who, caught staring, finally looked away. The man moved up to James. He didn’t whisper but spoke softly enough, so that he could hope Michael wouldn’t hear him, if he didn’t try to listen. Or perhaps he actually wanted Michael to hear? “James, may I speak to you in private.”  
  
James looked surprised up, then his gaze searched out Michael’s.  
  
Michael refused to avoid any awkwardness and didn’t look away. He simply kept staring impassively at them.  
  
A half-hearted laugh escaped James’ lips. “Really Thomas, what is it you fear could be heard by the wrong ears. As for Michael... Fürst Fassbender. I vouch for him. He is a trusted friend and ally!”  
  
Duke Hiddleston didn’t look convinced. “Are you sure? I do not intend to question your judgement. I’m only saying, that times like these, caution is a priority. ”  
  
But James didn’t waver. “Thank you, but yes. I am sure. So just say it outright, except if you worry these hedges could hold some spies. I won’t vouch for the greenery.”  
  
Duke Hiddleston laughed, throwing his head back. If Michael hadn’t disliked the Duke that much, the sight might have been endearing. Then after a moment’s hesitation, Duke Hiddleston gestured to the path leading away from the fountain. “Well I wouldn’t put it beyond the leaves to have ears. Best keep moving and not entice anyone to spy, by presenting an easy quarry.”  
  
They left the fountain behind. Duke Hiddleston kept them away from the more walked on paths, choosing ways where they encountered no other people. Michael made sure he walked closer than before, so he was almost flanking James.  
  
“Now, what I wanted to ask. You mentioned acquiring documents the French chased you for. What is their content, which made them so precious to the French?”  
  
Michael tensed, as he noticed the eager and calculating expression settling on the Duke’s face.  
  
James wasn’t as weary, grinning rakishly. “You will not believe it...” He only stopped himself, as he noticed, that his voice carried well past the surrounding hedges and continued more softly. “It’s Napoleon’s plans all laid out. From troop movements to plans on how the German states, the Italian Duchies, are to be split up. Some of the documents carry Napoleon’s personal seal. He was in heavy negotiations with some German Princes, paving his way further into Europe.”  
  
The Duke’s eyes widened and he stopped, turning to face James. “By God, if this is true...”  
  
Michael flinched, the hair at the back of his neck standing on end. None of the two men took any notice of him, though.  
  
“I need to see these documents!” Hiddleston’s voice was decisive. Suddenly he took hold of James’ shoulders. Michael tensed, fighting the urge to push the taller man away from James. The feeling grew so strong, it took him a moment to gather what was said. An icy cold feeling started to unfold in his guts, as he listened.  
  
“We need to send them to the King as soon as possible! This could mean an essential advantage in the war.”  
  
“I planned to take them back to Britain, but the only secure way seemed by passing through Vienna. We thought of heading through Russia or Venice from here. That is why we came to court today.”  
  
“What? Wait! Have you mentioned the existence of those documents to the Austrians?” Duke Hiddleston sounded alarmed, his hold on James’ shoulder tightening. Michael took a step forward, before he caught himself.  
  
“Well yes, I hinted at them.”  
  
“No, James! Don’t mention anything of them again. You have to be careful. The Austrian’s may be our allies, but if they know you have something of political and strategical value to them, they will want to acquire that, without putting our interests into consideration. Where are they now?”  
  
James patted his breast, where in an inside pocket of his jacket, he carried half of the documents. The other half was with Michael. “Safe on my person. I’m not foolish enough to leave them back at our lodgings.”  
  
Duke Hiddleston sighed relieved. “I wouldn’t take it past them to send spies to search you’re the place you stay at.”  
  
James chuckled. “Dreadful – spies.” Then he turned more serious again. “But, we took all the precautions we could and split the documents between the two of us, so even if...” He couldn’t finish the sentence, for he was interrupted by an aghast exclamation. “What?” Duke Hiddleston’s  eyes searched out Michael’s cold gaze.  
  
Michael didn’t flinch and met the stare head on. “You might not trust me, Duke Hiddleston, but in this James clearly is the better person to judge, don’t you think. After all, he knows me.”  
  
“Excuse me, Fürst Fassbender, but as you pointed out, I do not know you. I hope you will consent in handing the documents back to James. He acquired them, which makes them property of the Crown of England.”  
  
“Thomas, the reason I mentioned the documents to the Austrians in the first place, is to have some lever in negotiating for the confiscated ships. Ships that belong to Michael and the Austrian Empire had unrightfully incorporated in its fleet. Hopefully they are still in Venice, but Graf Cobenzl wouldn’t tell right away.”  
  
“James. What are you thinking?” For all the way he had raised his voice at first and the edge it held when he was speaking to Michael, he used a more gentler, more persuasive, tone of voice now. “You cannot use these documents for personal matters. The situation is grave. Britain is under siege. Napoleon has occupied the whole canal-coast on the continent. Britain needs this! I have contacts among some smugglers, who dare to break the French blockage. They send any information I acquire along to court, and give me news from there as well. I implore you, James; think where your loyalties lie. You can not simply barter away information of this importance for some random ships, that are stationed at a port, which soon might be overrun by Napoleon's troops anyway!”  
  
Michael no longer looked at them. He stared off into nothing. James was presented with everything he had wanted. A way to get the information back to Britain. An ally in Vienna, who turned out to be more than that. A friend, someone James knew, someone whose hands now were clasped around James shoulders. Someone who was showing a familiarity around James, that had been reserved for Michael these past months.  
  
Michael wanted to ball his hands to fists, but he couldn’t find the strength. He felt it all slip away. Left behind was mere emptiness. Pressure started to build behind his eyes and he started to grow dizzy, though he only registered it with a growing detachment, as it grew harder to breath.  
 _  
‘...mine...not loose him... can’t... have to keep him... mine... he belongs to us...belongs...Michael...stop him... or I will...’_  
The whisper was hot and rasping like sandpaper in his mind. “Yes.” He pressed the word out between clenched teeth, uncertain to what he was agreeing to. He couldn’t stop James. Yet he had to find a way. He watched.  
  
James looked thoughtful.  
  
James shortly turned to look at him.  
  
James turned his head away. “You are right of course...”  
  
James put a hand on Duke Hiddleston’s arm.  
  
Everything grew distant. He sucked in shallow breaths that hurt. _‘Not now! Not now! I have to talk to James. Stop! Don’t ... I didn’t call you...’_  
  
“The documents have to go to Britain as soon as possible. Yet you will understand though, I nearly gave my life for that information. And your way to send it back doesn’t seem entirely foolproof. So I would suggest, we only send copies. Surely that will be enough. Perhaps one or two original documents to make sure they know the information is genuine. Yet should the documents be intercepted, the information isn’t lost.”  
  
To that Thomas made a thoughtful sound. “It would truly not do, to have the documents intercepted and lost to us. Though it will not do to send simply a summary of what they say. Something we might think unimportant could prove invaluable information.”  
  
James looked briefly back at Michael, a sly smile played around his lips. He hid it, before he turned back to his fellow countryman.  
  
Michael took a deep breath. The tightness around his chest loosened. He felt shaken. There had been no pain, yet he had felt his control slip through his fingers like water. There had been times, when he had wished it to be that easy to let the demon part take control, as easy as it had been when he was still a child. It would happen that he would slip into the odd trance without any trigger. But he was not on his lands. If he slipped here...  
  
He needed answers, and only he himself could give him those.  
  
Michael tried to focus on James and Duke Hiddleston again, who were discussing the best way to copy the documents.  
  
“I don’t think we can attempt making the maps ourselves, tiny mistakes on paper will make huge differences transferred to scale.” Hiddleston had let go of James and was looking thoughtful at the ground, as if he could find answers there.  
  
“But do you know a mapmaker, who could copy them, or at least pencil in the markings for Napoleon’s troops and regiments?” James looked all serious again.  
  
Duke Hiddleston rubbed his long fingers over his forehead. “I know one who has the skill, but – I am not sure, if he would not go and boast about the work he has done.”  
  
Michael frowned. An idea tugged at his mind. “I know a forger in the city.”  
  
Two pairs of eyes suddenly bore into him. James looked surprised, Duke Hiddleston suspicious. “What do you mean?”  
  
“You need someone skilled to do an exact copy, a forger has the eye and skill for delicate work. I know someone like this in Vienna. That is, I knew. I haven’t kept in touch, but I could try and see, if he is still here, and get in touch with him.”  
  
“I know it is not my business, but since this is a matter of state – how come you know a forger?”  
  
Michael was fed up with it all. He stepped closer, his body brushing against James’ shoulder, as he stopped beside him to glare at Duke Hiddleston. The man had some 10 centimetres on him, but Michael didn’t let that stop him from looking down at the man. “You are correct, Duke Hiddleston, it is none of your business. And I could wonder the same, how come you are so well acquainted with smugglers.” To his satisfaction he saw a genuine look of shock appear on the Duke’s face.  
  
“Would you bloody hell stop that!” James snapped.  
  
Both Michael and Hiddleston looked at the smaller man, a mixture of surprise and bewilderment on their faces.  
  
“We are here because we want to fight against the French, not to start another war between Britain and a German principality. Thomas, I vouch for Michael. This has to be enough!” James didn’t say anything to Michael, but the look he gave him was clear enough. Yet all Michael could think was, how good James looked when he was angry. He wanted James to grab him, push him back against a tree, pinning him down with all his weight, demand...  
  
“James is right, this will not do. Please excuse my distrust. It is something one adopts when in the diplomatic service and what is hard to set aside. I do apologise.”  
  
Michael nearly missed Duke Hiddleston’s words. James was glaring expectantly at him. So he nodded reluctantly. “I rather have Britain for an ally, than start a war that I can only loose. So have my apologies as well.” He looked at the Duke as he said it, but was thinking about James. He felt tempted to lean closer to him, and whisper against James’ ear. ’I would surrender to you unconditionally.’  
  
“Good.” James still gritted his teeth. “Now let us remember, we are on the same side, so please, let us work together. Michael, about that forger of yours...”  
  
With James negotiating between them, they formulated a plan of action. Michael would try and find that forger. Tomorrow they would meet with Duke Hiddleston in the city, to go through the documents with James. In the meantime he would try and see to it, that they would gain access to court, to continuo with their negotiations for Michael’s lost ships.  
  
+++  
  
As they made it back into town, it was past noon. The travel along the streets seemed to only increase with the hour and it took them longer to get back. They ate a late lunch, then headed for their room – separately. James wanted to check the copies of the documents, which he had made already, while still at Michael’s estate. And though he had got the two men to cooperate in the end, the tension between Thomas and Michael had been – strenuous. Especially the distrust and, for lack of a better word, jealousy on Michael’s side. Well it just made him want to  not see Michael for an hour or so at least.  
  
After two hours of sitting at his desk in his hotel-rooms he felt stiff and unable to concentrate any longer. He got up, strolled to the window to look outside, while he tried to work the stiffness out of his shoulders. The view into an inner courtyard with two giant trees in it’s middle, couldn’t hold his interest for long. He turned away, hesitated a moment, but then headed for Michael’s rooms.  
  
James knew Michael had instructed Ferdinand to look for that forger. The valet would be a lot more inconspicuous than a Fürst Fassbender. Especially, if the man had changed his address and there had to be questions asked to neighbours or patrons at various inns about his whereabouts.  
  
Michael’s rooms where on the same floor as his, basically beside his, only separated by the staircase. This made it easier to slip into the other rooms, without being observed. James stopped, with his hand on the doorknob. Other people’s first assumption would be for them to play game of chess or cards, or just talk politics over a glass of brandy. Not that they would try licking the taste of the brandy from each others lips and mouths... James closed his eyes for a moment and willed himself to relax. He was not sneaking into Michael’s rooms, as if he was in the process of doing something forbidden. And he had to talk to Michael, about today and his reaction to Thomas. Didn’t he realise it was a stroke of luck, to have a friend and ally at court?  
  
The door was unlocked and he didn’t bother to knock, but just slipped in. Michael wasn’t in the salon, a nice enough room, decorated in a pale green, so he headed for the bedroom. He found him there, standing at the window, facing away from James. He was only wearing trousers and his shirt. James himself hadn’t bothered with jacket - or cravat, but still wore his waistcoat on top.  
  
“Michael, I think...” Too late he noticed the blood dripping from Michael’s fingers on his left and the familiar dagger, where it had fallen to the ground. He froze. But Michael was turning towards him, milky white eyes fixed on James.  
  
He didn’t feel scared, still when Michael looked at him, with the eyes of a demon, it seemed like he was not only seeing him but staring right at his soul. It left James a little breathless and he needed a moment to regain his composure. “Why are you – I didn’t mean to disturb you. Should I leave?” He didn’t want to leave Michael alone like this, but then he wasn’t sure if he wasn’t a distraction.  
  
And Michael had done this before, long before he had met James. He knew what he was doing. _‘Searching for the forger this way? Surely more efficient than having to walk around, questioning people. Though not as painful.’_ James gaze was drawn to the dripping blood. How many hundred times had Michael already cut through his own flesh. _‘Not what people usually think a sacrifice for a demon would be like.’_  
He made no attempt to leave, and then he couldn’t. Michael had come closer. He grabbed James’ arms, smearing blood all over one of James’ pristine white shirtsleeves. _“No! Can’t let you...”_ The rasping voice sent shivers down James’ spine. He had to look down from the intense white stare, watching Michael’s chest rise and fall with shallow struggles for air.  
  
But he still felt Michael’s gaze on him and his eyes were drawn up again, to meet the white eyed demon’s gaze. A compelling smile played around Michael’s lips. He let go of one of James’ arms, only to cup his face, fingers trailing lightly along James’ skin.  
  
James closed his eyes. The touch was cool. The fingers trailed down to his bare neck. As James felt Michael’s fingers wrap around his throat his eyes snapped open. “Michael?!”  
  
Michael let go of James’ other arm and put a finger against James’ lips. It felt wet and there was the faint coppery smell of blood. He swallowed. The hand around his throat made it uncomfortable, though Michael wasn’t squeezing but simply held him in place. James’ heartbeat picked up and he held his breath, as Michael leant closer. Michael’s breath spilled hotly against his skin. He was whispering something, the sound just on the edge of James’ hearing and he was unable to make out any words. Finally the hand moved to the back of his neck and James took a deep breath, wrinkling his nose as the smell of fresh blood filled his lungs. Michael’s lips brushed against his skin and moved against his mouth. He didn’t mind that James’ lips were smeared with blood, but sucked and licked at them, before he deepened the kiss.  
  
James responded willingly, though part of his mind was on Michael’s strange behaviour. What was he doing? He thought he had made it clear he would not leave Michael like this, even if he had another ally, he was with Michael in this, together. He had made it clear! He had all but said how he felt. But before the anxiety could rise up, his thoughts were scattered. The caress of Michael’s tongue against his was too distracting, and welcoming so. He moaned into the kiss, his eyes fluttering open a crack. Michael’s own eyes were still wide open, still white. The intensity of that stare raised goosbumps all over his body, and a light shiver ran down his spine. He drew back. Michael’s grip on his neck tightened, though it didn’t become painful.  
  
“Michael... are you all right?”  
  
 _“No.”_  
  
The answer startled James and he didn’t know what to reply. But Michael went on. _“We lost you once already...mine...”_  
  
James shook his head. “I’m not going anywhere.”  
  
 _“You can go home now.”_  
  
“Not without you!” He reached out to grip Michael’s arm. Michael followed the gesture with his eyes. James tightened his grip. He licked his lips. “You are mine!”  
  
Breathing suddenly was hard. The air felt thick and hot. James gasped, trying to formulate words, but his mouth had gone dry. Michael started to sway. James tightened his grip on him and tried to steady him with his body, though he himself started to stagger. There was a fire spreading through his chest, burning rivulets that ran through his body. His lungs were burning, his eyes, he couldn’t see...  
  
+++  
  
When James came to again, he lay sprawled on top of Michael on the ground. There was no fire. Slowly he dared to move. He felt fine. His elbow hurt, where he probably bumped it when he fell. Careful he sat up, slipping off Michael’s body. Worried he bent over him. His eyes were closed; his breathing even though, and his face looked peaceful. Nevertheless James checked for any blood or swelling on the head, but found nothing.  
  
Puzzled James kneeled beside him on the floor. As an afterthought he picked up Michael’s left hand and examined it. It was still smeared with blood, but the cut had healed. Worried James didn’t want to leave Michael’s side, but then he told himself he wouldn’t go far and it didn’t help Michael any, if he just kept sitting there beside him like a worried dog. Gingerly he got up and made his way over to the washstand. He still felt a little shaken. His body seemed fine now, but he remembered the feeling of fire all to clearly. He shivered and flinched as he saw his face in the mirror placed by the washstand. He was looking pale and in stark contrast a cheek and his chin were smeared with blood that partly had started to dry and flake off. He must have been out longer than he had thought.  
  
James poured some water into the basin and washed his face, before he took a cloth he made wet and then went back to Michael.  
  
Gently he brushed the wet cloth against Michael’s forehead, frowning worried as Michael showed no reaction. He took his hand and cleaned the blood off. “My stupid demon. What have you done now?” He spoke mainly to calm himself. He took the cloth back to the washstand, throwing it into the water that was already pink from the blood he had washed from his face. Better to tell Ferdinand later to throw it out, to not cause any questions. His gaze was drawn to where Michael had stood at the window when he came in. There was blood on the ground too. James sighed and then turned away to go and sit back down with Michael. He couldn’t be bothered to worry about that now too.  
  
Michael still didn’t look like he was going to wake up. Resolutely James put his arms under Michael’s shoulders and pulled him up, so Michael’s head rested on his lap. He checked his breathing and pulse again. Everything appeared as it should be. Whatever Michael had done, simply seemed to have exhausted him. James fingers brushed gently through Michael’s hair. He waited.  
  
James couldn’t say how long it took for Michael to finally stir again. Less than an hour for sure, yet James felt immensely relieved. Grinning hugely he looked down as Michael moved and opened his eyes.    
  
Michael groaned and put his hand over his eyes. “What happened?”  
  
James laughed relieved. “You tell me. I just walked in here and you used your powers... anyway, what did you attempt to do?”  
  
Michael moved, drew the hand back from his face, only to curl up and bury his face against James’ shirt, his hand taking a hold of James waist to pull himself closer.  
  
James looked down, gently tracing the line of Michael’s neck with his fingers. “You scared me.”  
  
Michael’s grip on him loosened. “Is it not a bit late for you to grow scared of me?”  
  
James bent down. He cupped Michael’s face in his hands and made him look up, capturing his gaze with his. “My stupid demon! Not scared of you.” He brushed a kiss against Michael’s forehead.  
  
It didn’t take Michael long to catch on though. Quickly he had his hands locked behind James’ neck, leaning up to capture James’ mouth in a slow kiss.  
  
“So what where you doing that took you out like this? Or did you find a French squadron hiding under the bed?”  
  
Michael frowned. “I am not sure.” The answer came hesitantly. “Something distracted me.”  
  
“Could it have been me?” James asked wryly. “You seemed rather – intense.“ He licked his lips. “Was it because of Thomas? Duke Hiddleston.” James felt Michael tense. The reaction spoke for itself.  
  
“You have all the means to get the information and yourself back to Britain now.” Michael’s voice was void any emotion.  
  
“I told you already...” Perhaps Michael had been to far gone. He was not sure how the communication between him and the demon worked, though he had thought that both knew, both always were present. “And I’ll tell you again. I will not leave you like that. But perhaps I should go to my room now for you to think the stupidity of that thought through on your own. “ He pushed at Michael, till he slipped from his lap and he could stand up.  
  
Surprise written plainly on his face, Michael gaped at him. “What?” Michael scrambled to his feet. He swayed and James reached out without thinking. Michael grasped on to him and the look he gave him was so raw and pleading. “Don’t go!”  
  
James felt like Michael wasn’t squeezing his arm but his heart. He stepped closer to him, his tone gentler. “All right, it seems like I have to keep an eye on my demon after all.”  
  
“Yes. You better do. To prevent such stupid thoughts.” Distracted Michael suddenly looked down at James’ arm. The sleeve of his shirt was stained red. “Your shirt?”  
  
“I guess that was your idea of marking me as yours. Though as I see it, you now own me a new shirt.”  
  
“Mhm...” Michael stared at the red stains, lost in thoughts. But then he shook his head and looked up at James. “I guess I do.” A hesitant smile spread on his lips. “Let me help you out of that spoiled shirt first.”  
  
James simply couldn’t resist his demon. “Please do.”  
  
+++  
  
Michael woke with a start. There had been a noise, someone shouting. He frowned. No. That had only been in his dream. He stifled a yawn and sluggishly rolled onto his side. He reached out for James, but found that side of the bed empty, yet still warm. Michael only wriggled closer to the recently vacated side of the bed, waiting for James to get back.  
  
His eyes drifted shut, when he suddenly felt it. James. There was a vague feeling of his presence.  
Michael lay absolutely still, eyes half closed, afraid to move, to loose the feeling. But it didn’t slip away. On the contrary, now that he knew it was there, he felt it more clearly.  
  
 _‘mine’_  
  
That was what he had done.  
  
He had wanted it, but hadn’t dared to think it, hadn’t known he could do something like that, but the demon, he had known. He had marked James, so he could feel him and would know where he was. He would always be able to find him, he was sure. James no longer could slip away, out of his range.  
 _  
‘Mine!’_  
  
The thought shocked and excited him.  
  
He would have to tell James.  
  
No, James would never need to know. Michael could clearly imagine that it would not go down well with him.  
  
Michael just lay there staring into the night.  
  
As James came back to bed a short time later, Michael pretended to be asleep.

  
###

tbc


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A dodgy district in Vienna. An inn. A secret meeting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please check out this lovely manip crazymaexchen did for me. *_*  
> http://issabella.tumblr.com/post/27338566147/crazymaexchen-happy-belated
> 
>  
> 
> NOTES: I wanted to put more into this chapter, but then it swelled up to a decent size and I thought it better to not keep you readers waiting for much longer.
> 
> WARNINGS: Mentions of prostitution and poverty. Short flashbacks to previous chapters and thoughts on violent killing.
> 
> More on historic events and people, though I just realised, despite my research, I made mistakes on the timeline.
> 
> This chapter has been infiltrated by one Tom Hiddleston - again. Beware, he is sitting down this time! We all know what this means. ; )
> 
> Oh and there is a dash of demon sex.

**May 1805 – Spittelberg – outer district of the city of Vienna**

The streets, packed earth and gravel, were narrow and slightly crooked, as they crawled uphill. They were so very unlike the cobbled paths leading through the city-centre. Yesterday, on their way to the palace, they had passed through the more grand suburbs, now they were in the exact opposite place. It was early afternoon, but thick clouds obscured the sun. Though with the houses, some four storeys tall, standing wall to wall, with no space left inbetween, it was unlikely much sun would filter down into the streets anyway. To add to the claustrophobic feel, crude makeshift stalls crowded the streets. Most were so warped that all that seemed to hold them up where the walls of the buildings behind them.  
  
Some attempts had been made to bring some cheer into the gloom, by painting the walls in garish colours, but one didn’t have to look to closely to see the paint flaking and plaster crumbling down.  
  
Shopkeepers were calling to passer-bys, children mingled between the stalls, crouched in house entrances, playing with sticks in the dirt or simply eyeing the ones passing by.  
  
James now understood, why Michael had opted to leave their horses at the Court-stables, that were only some streets and a high wall away. Though they had made a bit of a fuss, because Michael and he were not officially visiting at court. But a bit of coin had proven enough to tip the argument in their favour.  
  
Another thing quickly became clear to James. Despite the court residing outside the city in Schönbrunn, there had still been many fine looking horses at the stable, which were just unsaddled or made ready for riding. Reason for so many gentlemen from court showing a great interest in the run down streets and drinking houses of the Spittelberg, was that the place was teeming with prostitutes.  
  
James spotted well clad gentleman here and there, the fine moleskin tophats standing out in the ragtag of the other people’s headpieces. Some would quickly disappear into the drinking houses, alone, or already lured in by one of the women from the streets. Some though seemed to be in a rush and disappeared into one of the dark house entrances or backyards with them.  
  
When the gentleman walked passed each other, they politely didn’t take notice of one another though. The indecencies where bared, and yet everyone pretended to see nothing.  
  
James’ gaze strayed to a particular young looking girl. She couldn’t be older than fifteen. With her blonde curls framing a round face and wide blue eyes she looked innocent and naive at first glance. But the way she gazed about, calculating and with a cool detachment, she was as hardened as her older colleges. But when she caught him looking, her expression changed and a sweet and shy smile appeared on her painted lips, like a mask that slipped into place. _‘Painted whores and courtiers, how well it goes together, all wearing masks, never showing what they really think.’_  
  
James was snatched out of his thoughts as suddenly a strong arm was wrapped around his waist and he was pulled against a house-wall, just in time to avoid a mob of children, pushing a cart that seemed to have gained momentum by the downward slope of the street and was nearly out of their control as it trundled past at speed. Mud splattered his boots, but otherwise he remained unharmed.  
  
“Careful.” Michael used the excuse to pull James closer for a moment, before letting him go.  
  
James gave a rueful smile. “I should pay more attention to my surroundings.”  
  
“I fear you paid to much attention to your surroundings.” Pointedly he looked over to the girl James had been eyeing. There was a hint of amusement in her eyes and she bit her lip, probably stifling her laughter at James’ clumsiness, though she cleverly distracted from both, by swaying her hips lazily.  
  
James had followed Michael’s gaze then looked back at him with a smirk. “What? Are you worried I might be ensnared by one of those... fallen angels?”  
  
“I dare say, you are not so easily ensnared. Merely distracted, and that’s all that’s needed for her little pickpocketing accomplice to get at you.” Michael pointed to a child with similar blonde hair, but cut short, that stood close-by at one of the booths, showing a strange interest in the brushes and brooms on display. “I’ve watched the little mite creep closer the moment she caught your eyes.”  
  
James gave the child a hard look, making sure it knew he had taken notice. “Glad I have a demon watching over me.” He murmured softly for Michael’s hearing only, as he turned back. But he needn’t have worried to be overheard, since the sound of a church-bell close by overshadowed all other noise, at least for a moment.  
  
Michael wrinkled his nose in distaste at the sound and James noted a certain stiffness to his shoulders. He didn’t quite relax, even after the bells had stopped. “Speaking of angels though, let’s not keep your ambassador friend waiting.”  
  
James frowned. Michael still sounded all but friendly when mentioning Thomas. Though as long as he didn’t call him any worse than compare him to an angel – well that could only be considered impolite when such a comparison was made by a demon.  
  
“Interesting he choose such a place for a meeting.” Michael didn’t even make an effort to keep the dry tone from his voice.  
  
“It’s only logical. It’s a place gentleman go and no one questions the why – because it is obvious. So it’s the best place for meetings that should not be noticed.”  
  
“It will ruin the angel’s reputation, though.”  
  
James laughed. “Whatever you think of him, he sure is no angel. Thomas has quite a ...mischievous streak.”  
  
Michael stopped suddenly. James thought at first the talk about Thomas had riled him – again. Though it was Michael himself who wouldn’t leave the topic alone. He still felt indulgent and amused, especially of the way Michael was seeing Thomas – an angel, his demons arch-nemesis or something. But when they were meeting he really hoped Michael would stop acting, for lack of a better word – so jealous. Or James was sure his own patience would snap. So he was glad to note that Michael hadn’t reacted to what James had said, but was merely looking around, frowning, in an attempt to orientate himself.  
  
“Are we lost?” James tried to make out any street-signs, but found none. “You said you had been here before.” And knowing this place now, he wasn’t so sure what to make of that. For he could only see it too clearly. A younger version of Michael on his ‘grand tour’, strutting though the streets...  
  
“Not lost yet. We are in the right alley, but according to the directions there should be a small alley crossing around here. Or maybe...” Michael shortly touched his shoulder, as if to assure he had his attention. “I think it’s this way.” They headed for an open passage, before Michael answered to his other comment. “Last time I was here I must say I didn’t pay much attention to the streets itself. Anyways I only managed to get to that tavern back there, ‘Zum steinernen Löwen.’”  
  
James turned to look, but the passage they had entered was already obscuring most of the alley from view.  
  
“That repeatedly though.”  
  
James wrinkled his nose. “Found something of particular interest in there.”  
  
Michael stopped to look at James. An amused smile played around his lips.  
  
“I’m simply curious.” That comment, undeniably defensive, only caused the smile on Michael’s face to widen to a toothy grin.  
  
“Yes.” With that he turned to walk on, leaving James to wonder to what the ‘yes’ referred to.  
  
James didn’t probe any more, only threw a last glance in the direction if the mentioned tavern, then tried to shake off all thoughts and images his mind decided to conjure for him.  
  
He caught up with Michael at the other end of the passage that had led them into yet another narrow alley. It seemed somewhat less crowded than the one they had left.  
  
Michael looked around. “It should be here.”  
  
James’ let his gaze travel over the fronts of the houses. He made out two tavern-signs, but none of those showed an eagle like the place’s name would suggest it should. “I can’t see it. We could always ask.”  
  
“Apart from the fact that I hardly understand what the people at the stalls shout to sell their goods for their weird accent, I don’t like giving to much notice of us and where we are headed. And anyway – “ Michael turned to him. “It’s just over there.”  
  
James was surprised when the walked up to one of the iron signs he had noticed too. It was the form of a round yet prickly red hedgehog. Why had Michael then said the were looking for the red eagle? He gave a soft laugh as he realised his mistake. “Igel. You said Igel, not eagle. I thought.” The word sounded the same in German and English and his mind had switched to the language he was more used to, when Michael told him the name.  
  
Michael looked surprised at the sudden exclamation. “Perhaps I should put more effort in refining your grasp of the German language.”  
  
“You can try.” James smiled to himself, thinking of the times Michael had tried to teach him. “But I think you won’t be able to without reciting lascivious poetry or distracting me with your hands while ‘explaining’.”  
  
“I simply think it best to engage all your senses in learning a new language. And the poetry and ballads I recite are all decent.”  
  
“So the ambiguity lay solely in your declamation.”  
  
“I claim innocence for how you perceived my presentation.”  
  
James snorted. “Innocence!” But before he could protest some more, someone pushed past them to enter the inn, stopping their banter and reminding them the purpose of their visit. “I suggest we discuss this further in the evening.”  
  
Michael grinned. “Tonight.” And there was a lascivious purr in his voice that clearly could not claim innocence.  
  
James resist to remark and pushed the door open. He stepped into the half gloom of the taproom. They were late already anyway, but if the little exchange had put Michael in a better mood, that would hopefully extend to Thomas as well, he didn’t mind so much.  
  
For a moment he felt Michael’s hand against his back. He felt the warmth of the brief touch, despite the velvet jacket, waistcoat and shirt he wore. It was odd and he nearly faltered in his step as he realised he didn’t feel the touch at his back exactly. Before he could analyse the feeling more closely, Michael, who - as always - had no trouble orientating himself quickly in the gloom, spotted Thomas.  
  
“Over there – by the window.”  
  
James scanned the tables by the windows and saw his friend at one. He had a glass of wine in front of him, the window at his back, so he could keep a good look out at the room. His clothes were inconspicuous, well tailored, but the mute brown colour made sure he didn’t stick out. The only extravaganza was the blue and brown chequered cravat, that had a silken shimmer to it in the hazy lamplight.  
  
Thomas looked very much at ease at the place, as if he frequented the Red Hedgehog often. Watching the other people, leaning back in his chair and sitting with his legs splayed wide, that had earned him a scandalised look around court more than once. Especially when he sat like that when they visited the theatre and the older ladies still preferring the wide cushioned dresses to the new fashion of antique styled dresses, had a hard time finding enough space beside him. Thomas always seemed blissfully unaware of how much space he was hogging.  
  
Though he had experienced some ladies, young and old, soon finding Thomas splayed legs an inspiring new opportunity to flirt. They would drop fans or handkerchiefs between Thomas legs and then taking this as an excuse to almost crawl into his lap to retrieve them. Thomas usually found it amusing, except the one time one of said Ladies, old enough to be their grandmother, accidentally got her pearls entangled with a button on Thomas jacket. It took some time before they could disentangle the two with the help of a footman – all the while the Lady had been draped over Thomas lap most indecently. An adventure said Lady seemed to rather enjoy, despite her protests and excuses. And an incident he could always tease Thomas with.  
  
As Thomas caught sight of them, a wide smile appeared on his face.  
  
They made their way through the crowd. “Thomas, so good to see you again.” James reaches out to clasp his friends hands shortly in his. For a moment James felt Michael at his back, crowding against him, but as he looked away from Thomas, Michael was actually standing beside him. Confused James threw a glance over his shoulder, but there was noone there and his attention was quickly drawn back to the two men.  
  
They looked at each other, like waiting. It wasn’t to wise to announce their names in public when they wanted to stay anonymous and inconspicuous. But unlike James, neither was at liberty to call the other by his first name.  
  
Thomas opened his mouth, as if wanting to say something but then closed it again. A smirk tugged at Michael’s lips.  
  
Yet is was as conspicuous, if they kept standing, when there were perfectly good chairs available. James suppressed the urge to look around the room, to see if anyone was already looking at them.  
  
Suddenly Thomas laughed. “Please join me.”  
  
James let out the breath he hadn’t been aware of holding and slipped into the seat closest to Thomas, leaving the one to his right for Michael. Michael spared a glance for the rest of the room but then sat down, facing Thomas and the window.  
  
“I think we might have got of on the wrong foot the previous day. I had time to think, and I have to apologise again for my rash behaviour. James trusts you, and I abide by his judgement and think of you as an ally, and maybe even friend. So please, to start our acquaintance afresh and on better terms, call me Thomas.”  He reach out his hand.  
  
A peace offering and the perfect solution to avoid having to use their full names and titles, staying anonymous.  
  
James smile wavered as Thomas hand stayed alone on top of the table. He looked over at Michael, whose expression remained aloof.  Michael observed the offered hand and for a mere moment his gaze flickered over to James. Finally he reached out and clasped Thomas’ hand in his. “Then I guess it is only appropriate for you to call me Michael.”  
  
“Excellent!” James was startled at how relieved he sounded. He hid it by waving at one of the waiters wiping down one of the tables closeby and ordered wine for him and Michael.  
  
Mere pleasantries were exchanged at first, about the city, how they found there way to the inn and so on. Only after James and Michael had their drinks before them, did they venture toward the reason they met here so secretly.  
  
“Vice-chancellor Cobenzl asked to meet me yesterday, mere hours after you left. He tried to find out if I knew anything about any documents you acquired from the French; as well as about your friendship with a German Fürst. I got the impression he considers it an unholy alliance. He would rather wish you – or rather us – to honour our allegiance by confiding to him any knowledge we have gained about our common enemy’s movements and plans.”  
  
James nearly choked on the wine he had drunk. This was hitting maybe a bit too close to the truth. He coughed but managed to turn that into a laugh. “That seems rather extreme...”  
  
Michael smiled amused. “Really now, he makes me out to be the devil? But I thought that title was solely reserved for Napoleon.”  
  
“And anyone who might stand between the Austrians and Napoleons defeat. He feels that Britain has less to loose.” Thomas shook his head. “But the war at sea has grown more and more fierce. If not a turning point appears soon...”  
  
“What about Lord Nelson, last I heard...” But James stopped as Thomas shook his head.  
  
“After the French broke through our naval blockade in the Mediterranean sea and passed Gibraltar, he gave chase and as far as I know still hasn’t returned to British shores. Seems like the French were headed to the Caribbean to weaken us through a strike to our colonies. We can only hope Nelson has caught up with them.”  
  
James frowned. “If he can find them. It will be like searching for a needle in a haystack out there in open waters. And what if the Caribbean is not their true goal, then Nelson might as well sail past them while the French make a detour back.”  
  
Thomas raised an eyebrow. “Back where?”  
  
Decidedly James reached into the inside of his jacket and pulled out a nondescript folded piece of paper. He put it on the table by his side, within easy reach of Thomas hand. “I have looked through the documents again and this is something that cannot wait, I fear. Read it.”  
  
Thomas took the paper and opened it. Inside was another letter, one of the documents James had stolen. The rest was information he had pieced together from the maps and other documents.  
Prince-Elector Karl Friedrich of Baden had no access to the sea, had no fleet and thus it had probably seemed unnecessary to make him privy to all the plans involving the naval operations. But there had been short notes, like glimpses, into Napoleon’s schemes at sea. Looked at separately they didn’t  appear to hold much significance nor make much sense, but James had laboured this morning to piece all the information together, hoping all the while that Thomas would give him news of a British victory at sea, that would render all of Napoleon’s plans inoperative - and the dire need, to get this information into British hands, unnecessary.  
  
Thomas expression grew more and more anxious. “James...” his voice was a low hiss. “This... they plan to invade! If they truly manage to shatter all our naval blockades and reach British soil... We aren’t prepared for this! Napoleon could march right into London.”  
  
“We have to send this immediately.” James’ affirmed.  
  
Only now did he glance at Michael. He had sat up straight, hand gripping his wine-glass. His expression was calm, only his eyes betrayed his emotions.  
  
James reached out a hand, grasped Michael’s arm. “I’m sorry I haven’t told you about this before. There wasn’t any time this morning and I hoped Thomas would have better news for me on the state of the naval blockades, making this unnecessary.”  
  
There was a moment Michael just held his gaze, then there was a smile showing in his eyes and by the light tugging of the corners of his mouth. “I understand; these news have you truly agitated.”  
  
James felt relieved, which lasted right up to the moment, when he noticed that he was holding on to Michael’s arm, while his thumb stroked over the dark-blue silk of his jacket. He drew his hand back like burnt, throwing a half panicked look at Thomas. But he only saw blonde curls, with the man having spread both documents in front of him, his gaze alternating between the two sheets of paper. “This letter to go along with what you summarised will do. We will send this without any further words. I will compose a separate letter explaining everything, but should this be intercepted, and may god help us that it wont, it might cause more confusion, than alert the French.”  
  
But James was only half listening. He was shocked how easily he had forgotten that they were in public. He who had told Michael again and again how careful they had to be. _‘Not a demon, but I myself will be my own downfall. Damn it!’_  
  
“One thing though.” Michael seemed a lot less distracted and more attentive to Thomas’ words. “The French know we, or rather, James is in possession of these documents. So should these be intercepted -in the end, they will know who they come from.”  
  
“Yes, of course. Still with nothing to link them to a sender, it will take some time to puzzle this out. It might go to spies or officials who have not heard about James’ daring feat of acquisition. Something Napoleon will not want known for sure.”  
  
Michael smirked. “You mean the knowledge of the thievery might have been kept a secret.”  
  
Thomas frowned. ”Yes. But please, you make the act sound base. James has only acted with the interest of the British crown in mind.”  
  
“Like your privateers.”  
  
Thomas beamed. “Exactly.”  
  
“Yet when your privateers are  caught by the French, they still call them pirates and hang them by their necks.”  
  
Thomas looked puzzled for a moment. “What do you want to imply.”  
  
“Should the French intercept these – and make the connection as to where the letters are sent from, Napoleon might find himself just humiliated enough by one British Earl and decide to send someone to obliterate that offence.” Michael leant forward over the table, closer to Thomas. “So you better put all your efforts in making sure, these documents reach their destination and not enemy hands.”  
  
James blanched. He hadn’t really given that possibility any thought. Not after he had finally managed to feel safe again. It was like icy fingers were crawling over his neck, raising goosebumps while a feeling of dread threatened to rise from his belly. He reached for his glass of wine, swallowing the contents with one gulp, in hope to drown the sensation. As he looked up again, both men were looking at him. James managed a humourless smile.    
  
Thomas spoke first. “Perhaps it would be better for you to take a safe route back to Britain. Stay on the move, so they would never be able to find out where you are. I dare say Britain is the safest place.”  
  
James shook his head, lifting his hand to stop Michael from growling at Thomas and threatening the newly minted – friendship might be a too daring word, but alliance, that seemed to fit nicely. He nearly missed the hesitant “Perhaps...” coming from Michael.  
  
He turned his head to look at him. Michael seemed thoughtful as if he was truly considering Thomas suggestion. Had the world gone mad?  
  
James shook his head once more, more vehemently this time. “No! I’m done running. If I continuo, I will never stop looking over my shoulder. We will proceed as planned.”  
  
+++  
  
That night James felt the bravado he had shown in the tavern slowly diminished. He lay awake long after Michael had fallen asleep beside him, staring into the darkness of their room while his thoughts wandered back to those days he had been hunted by the French Hussar - squadron. The dead squadron, their bodies lying dead at the base of an old church-ruin. He kept that thought foremost in his mind. He even tried to remember the dagger in his hand, rushing forward, aiming for the Colonel’s neck. The feel of the blade sinking into the soft tissue of the throat. He felt relieve, and something – darker. Something he never wanted to feel in connection to killing another person, even if it was in self-defence. He shuddered.  
  
Was that the demons – Michael’s influence on him.  
  
He remembered the cave and the bandits and the violent killing. Michael had enjoyed that.  
  
James sat up in bed.  
  
 _‘Hypocrite. You were glad he killed those threatening you. You wouldn’t have cared how violently he had killed them. – No that wasn’t true. It would have bothered...’_ James took a slow breath. It was meaningless to lie to oneself. But it was easier to avoid such thoughts during the day. “And in the dark night, one soul’s secrets are laid bare.” James rubbed his flat hand against his chest.  
  
His soul tainted by a demon’s touch. Was that even possible. Only 6 months ago he would have called it superstitious nonsense. He had believed that one was responsible for ones own doings. It would be cowardly to put all blame for his changed attitude on Michael. Yet he could not deny being with the man, had altered his perspective. Not only what he enjoyed doing in bed.  
  
 _‘Him. And the Kurfürst’s dishonesty, telling me he was contemplating the British crowns offers while he was already making a pact with France. And the manhunt they staged for me. And him giving up everything – for me.’_  
  
Despite the thought’s being his own, with no one there to observe and judge, James blushed.  
  
He had never though, the first time he met him... James looked over to where Michael was sleeping, one arm resting on the pillow beside him, the blanket pulled up just over his waist.  
  
James drew closer, laying back down, resting his head against Michael’s chest, careful not to wake him. He closed his eyes, listening to the heartbeat. A smile curled his lips, as he remembered what Michael had said in the dark barn when James thought he was going mad from hearing noises in the night. “This is real.”  
  
When he woke up again, it was to the feel of feathers against his skin. Feathers, or soft snow, falling from a blue sky. Last time he dreamt that, he was in Ulm. He tried to open his eyes but found it hard. _‘Go back to sleep...’_ But then he realised he still felt the soft caress, running along his arm, shoulder and down his side, then slipping down to his waist, then sliding further down, drawing circles on his butt.  
  
“I know you are awake.”  
  
James smiled. “Hardly.” But he tried to open his eyes, wriggled so he could brace himself on one arm and he could look up into Michael’s face. For a moment he froze. His heart skipped a beat as he looked into white eyes, white as snow, or feathers, or both. “Michael?” He felt wide awake all of a sudden, his heart hammering in his chest.  
  
The answer was a smile and a slight tilt of the head.  
  
James pushed himself up, looking around in the bed, looking for blood or any injury on Michael’s body. There was pale light coming through slits in the curtains drawn over the window, enough to see that there were no dark patches of blood, neither on the bed sheets, nor Michael’s body. He looked back at the demon’s face. “Did you do this on your own. Without causing yourself pain, I mean.”  
  
There was a soft chuckle, the sound seemed to slide against his skin, warm yet raising goosebumps. _“It’s easy to slip past when he is asleep.”_  
  
James licked his lips. The demon’s gaze slid down to watch. Again he felt– exposed. “Did you want to talk to me?”  
 _  
“No.”_  
  
James was oddly disappointed.  
  
 _“You did not want to leave.”_  
  
Statement? Question? It was hard to interpret the tone of voice when the voice he spoke with was Michael’s and yet sounded different. Was he surprised? James moved his hand up to Michael’s shoulder, so he could pull himself closer. His face was inches away from Michael’s now, the white eyes all he could see. “No, I don’t want to. I can’t leave what is mine behind.”  
  
The kiss wasn’t tender or slow, but open mouths pressing hard against each other.  
  
Arms wrapped around him, urged him on top, so his body was pressed hot against Michael’s.  
  
Still the demon was not satisfied.  
  
Hands slid down, groping at his butt, pulling at his legs until he was straddling Michael’s body. James’ ground his hips down, drawing a loud groan from the demon, and something that sounded like ‘Mine!’  
  
Fingers were sliding down the cleft between his butt, brushing the tight ring of muscles at his opening there. James’ tensed, wanting to draw back, but Michael’s hands kept him firmly in place. “Wait.”  
 _  
“You said later. Now is later.”_ The voice was rasping like sandpaper now, rather unlike Michael’s.  
  
“I know, I know. I though I would feel more... more ready, but the thought, it’s just not something...” The mere thought of buggery seemed unpleasant, intrusive. “I still need some time...”  
  
 _“Hush!”_ The demon let go of him with one hand, and pressed the index finger against James wet lips. _“Don’t run away.”_  
  
James wanted to protest. He was not running anywhere. As he opened his mouth, Michael’s finger slipped in, rubbing against his teeth, then slipping in further. Tentatively James’ touched it with his tongue, just circling the tip of his tongue against the finger. It tasted salty. The demons gaze was fixed on his mouth, he seemed fascinated. James sucked at the finger sucked it completely into his mouth, pressing his tongue against it and sucking at it hard, before letting it nearly slip from his mouth again only to suck it back in.  
  
He could feel Michael growing hard, his erection trapped between their bodies, alongside his own.  
  
Next time he released the finger, the demon dew his hand back, only to reach down. The wet finger was pressing against his puckered opening. James lowered his head and held his breath.  
  
Michael underneath him shifted slightly. Something wet touched his ear. Michael’s tongue. _“Relax. Nothing more will happen. Just this. Once.”_  
  
James let out a shuddering breath, the finger wriggled against him, pushing past the tight muscles.  
  
It didn’t feel as bad. Odd, only odd and yet somehow exiting. He gasped as the finger was withdrawn again.  
  
The demon chuckled before he captured his mouth in another kiss. This time he went slow, exploring James mouth with his tongue, making him slightly dizzy yet James didn’t want to stop this –but then suddenly Michael drew back.  
  
“James...?” Michael sounded breathless and confused.  
  
James was looking into grey eyes, that looked dazed up at him.  
  
“I don’t know what brought this on, but I’m not complaining waking up to this.”  
  
James just smiled. “You! You brought this on.”

###

tbc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Spittelberg was a notorious place for prostitution during the 18th and 19th century.  
> The ‘Red Hedgehog’ was actually located in a different part of Vienna, but I simply love the Inn-name and still existing sign, so I relocated it, to have it in the story.


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael and James are invited to join the Viennese court at one of its amusements. Gossip and emotions run high. Michael is confronted with what he lost –but also with what he gained.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The part before the last took several rewrites and changes before it felt right, hope I didn’t miss anything amidst the changes. So if there is anything confusing in there, please point me to it.
> 
> The chapter was inspired by one of crazymaexchen’s photosets on tumblr.  
> http://issabella.tumblr.com/post/28431687882/  
> It really made me want to write Michael stealing James’ cravat (again) and led to much drama from there. *g* So thank you for the inspiration!

Events at court were always formal. Even those held outside the serene walls of the palace. Like one of the many hunts (that turned into more social gathering and games than an actual real hunt) held at one of the hunting châteaus of the Emperor.  
  
The one thing though, that the stiff ‘Spanish Protocol’ that reigned the Viennese Court, could not restrain, was the news and gossip that would float around. And nothing would cause rumours quicker, than new names and faces.  
  
+++  
  
“Do you know them?”  
  
+++  
  
“I haven’t seen them at court before.”  
  
+++  
  
“The one dressed all in black...”  
  
“That waistcoat is midnight blue, quite the new fashion, I tell you.”  
  
“It looks black to me. Anyway, he is from one of the German principalities. Fürst Fassbender.”  
  
+++  
  
“I have heard they are here, by invitation of Vice-Chancellor Cobenzl.”  
  
+++  
  
“I have heard, they are here as guests of the British Ambassador. One of them is from England, you know.”  
  
“Which one?”  
  
“The better dressed one. Duke Hiddleston introduced him to my father. He is an Earl from Scotland.”  
  
“He doesn’t look like it – Scottish, I mean.”  
  
“How are they supposed to look?”  
  
“Barbaric.”  
  
“You shouldn’t believe everything people say.”  
  
“But everyone knows its supposedly  – medieval up there.”  
  
“Well that Earl looks rather fashionable and handsome I’d say.”  
  
“Josepha! You do not want to imply that you are interested in him –anyway, you do not know if he isn’t already married.”  
  
“He is not. My father asked, if his wife was here too, and he said he didn’t have one.”  
  
“Oh. But your parents cannot expect you to marry someone who lives in such a rustic place as Scotland. I have heard it is raining there constantly.”  
  
“I would! If it meant being able to live far away from my parents.”  
  
“What a wicked thing of you to say!”  
  
+++  
  
“Fürst Fassbender is from a small principality, rather close to the border to France.”  
  
“If Napoleon has his way, we too might soon be close to French borders. But have you heard, if he sympathises with the French?”  
  
“Would he then be travelling with an English Earl?”  
  
“Oh, I just thought it was a coincidence, them arriving together.”  
  
“A strange alliance.”  
  
“Just as strange as our own alliance with the British Crown, don’t you agree? I guess, being threatened by Napoleon, one has to stop being picky about ones allies.”  
  
“Just as long as the command of our troops stays in the hands of an Austrian prince, I can live with it.”  
  
“And would you not like to take those honours yourself, Graf Pálffy.”  
  
+++  
  
“You think their presence has a political motive? Or – like our good Graf Kaunitz thinks – to explore the possibilities of alliances of a more private matter.”  
  
“I wouldn’t think to marry one of my daughters to one of the British Nobility. For one they all are protestants!”  
  
“Ah, but it’s not that bad today. Remember, the emperors first wife was protestant.”  
  
“Yes, but she converted.”  
  
“The proper faith is a mere inconvenience today. What I would be more concerned of, is the benefit, which seems close to nil. What advantage could come from marrying into a British house? Britain’s main focus seems to be on its colonies. I would rather consider that German Fürst.”  
  
“Fassbender. Old family, but nothing much else to the name. You’d rather win with British Colonies. They might be far off, but they hold possibilities.”  
  
“I wouldn’t be so certain of that. The Fürst seems to be doing fine, going by the attention the British Ambassador has given him. Making sure to introduce him to families that are close to the Emperor. What, haven’t you noticed?”  
  
“Perhaps he has uncovered some secret treasure on his lands.”  
  
“Or he has turned his whole lands into a giant pitfall to stop Napoleon’s advance.”  
  
+++  
  
“It seems curious. A German Fürst so friendly with the British Ambassador. I heard they are on first name basis.”  
  
“How eccentric.”  
  
“And that Earl McAvoy; they came here together. I heard he is a diplomat as well. That would explain how they come to know each other, but what brought them here, together, I wonder.”  
  
“What is on your mind?”  
  
“What if Fürst Fassbender worked as a spy for the British Court? His lands are small and insignificant. He will want a powerful ally to survive the war.”  
  
“Curious though, why he hasn’t chosen Napoleon then.”  
  
+++  
  
The whispering was all around him, reaching every lastcorner of the park sprawling outin front of the hunting château. At the Ladies’ Archery field, over at the buffet tables, in the open canvas tents, where mainly elderly Gentleman and Ladies had retreated to. Very likely the talk was the same over at the shooting-stand, where a wooden platform had been erected. The courtiers and other noble guests showed off their skills by shooting at wooden targets in the form of deer, boar and hare. It was mainly men over there, only a few of the fairer sex had elected to not give a damn about what was considered proper and tried to match their skills with the men. They seemed to hold their own, even against James. As far as Michael could tell. He was mainly watching James, who looked quite at home, talking and laughing. The courtiers seemed to react well to him, yet he also noted their glances, their curiosity and how heads bowed closer to exchange whispered words, whenever James turned his back.  
  
As Michael focused on his immediate surroundings again, he became aware that someone had walked close to him and stopped. He glanced over shortly. It was one of the women from the Archery field. She still wore her gloves and held the bow, fingers playing with the bowstring.  
  
“You look rather bored. Do you not enjoy hunting?”  
  
Startled Michael noticed she was talking to him. “We haven’t been introduced. So is it proper for you to talk to me?”  
  
For a moment she didn’t answer, then sighed. “I guess it is not proper to talk to you, Fürst Fassbender.” He wasn’t surprised she knew his name. After all he had heard it whispered the whole midmorning. She looked down at her bow, than up again over the archery field. Her brown curls were neatly gathered up in a fashionable bun. Curls were draped so they framed her face without hiding it. A few strands of hair had clearly escaped though, brushing against her long pale neck. “So, you don’t like hunting?”  
  
“I do like hunting. But this – can hardly be called hunting.” Michael found himself curious. She kept her gaze at the other Ladies still taking shots at the colourful painted targets. For a passing glance it might appear like she was standing beside him by accident, but everyone sparing a second look, would notice they were talking.  
  
“It is the prelude to the actual hunt in the afternoon. You are at the Austrian Court after all, you cannot expect things to be done in a simple way here. You should remember, it is all about the ‘Spanish Protocol’.”  
  
“Which you seem to think so very highly of, by speaking to a stranger, who you have not yet been introduced to.” Michael was amused.  
  
“Ah, but there you are mistaken. We have been introduced.”  
  
The words made Michael turn towards her and look. She turned her head, fixing him with eyes of amber-brown. She looked striking. There was something about her, that kept you looking. An amused smile played around her full lips. He did recognise then. “Gräfin Ulfeldt. You have grown. Taller I mean.”  
  
“Not only that, I dare say. Though I know you did not consider me a child at our first meeting, I dare say myself, that I have grown up since then.”  
  
“I hope life treated you well.” He remembered a girl, just sixteen. Innocent but curious and daring. Despite ‘growing up’ she hadn’t lost her boldness.  
  
“Oh it has. I am widowed, you see. I am Fürstin Schwarzenberg-Ulfeldt now. It offers some interesting opportunities.”  
  
“Like staying at court?” Michael wondered if her approaching him was solely to... what? Share some memories that better not become publicly known. Was she concerned about what he might say to others? He highly doubted that a stranger at court, trying to slander the name of Schwarzenberg would survive the wrath of one of the most powerful families in the Habsburg Empire.  
  
“Like being governess to the Archduchess Marie Louise. She is doing rather well at the archery, don’t you think.”  
  
“Who would dare say otherwise of the Emperors daughter.”  
  
She gave a little rather unladylike snort. “Sleek. I wondered if you had changed.” She mused. “Is your stay here, purely for your amusement – like last time. Or is there a grave and dark purpose to it all. Some say you seek assistance against Napoleon and have already allied yourself with Britain. Why then are you here though and not at their court. Others say you are looking for a wife.”  
  
“Oh, do they say that?” Michael asked. He kept his tone innocently surprised, though he couldn’t hide the smirk showing on his face.  
  
“Ah yes, we have to pretend you didn’t notice any of the conversations revolving around you and this Earl Mcavoy. A British diplomat and a Fürst from Germany, arriving at court, together. A very odd friendship, don’t you think. Of course, no-one would speculate about them.”  
  
Michael’s shoulders stiffened. For a moment he thought she implied something else, about him and James and their friendship being other than what was considered - apropriate. But no, that was just his mind leaping to conclusions. No-one had any ideas; they sure hadn’t given anyone a reason to speculate.  
  
Fürstin Schwarzenberg-Ulfeldt gave him a long hard look. “You never struck me as the marrying type. No matter that propriety demands of you to produce an heir.”  
  
“I am shocked. A Lady speaking of such matters to someone she hardly knows.”  
  
“Be as shocked as you like. After our brief yet intimate acquaintance in the past, I dare declare myself knowledgeable about some parts of you.” She said it without batting an eyelid.  
  
So perhaps she was just curious, or she wanted to make sure he was no threat. Not to her personally, she seemed far to shrewd to care for rumours and in a far to powerful position. “So with all this talk about marriage, I wonder, are you offering?”  
  
“By God, no. Being married once has been quite enough for me than you. Like you, I would say, it is rather inconvenient.”  
  
“What makes you think, that I find it inconvenient.” Though of course she was right. Even if she didn’t know the real reason.  
  
“Because you are not married yet. And because, as a man, you have the possibility to pursue your pleasures without the burden of marriage – elsewhere.”  
  
“Are you teaching the Archduchess about these – experiences you have made in life?”  
  
“I teach her to think. As the Emperors daughter she is a pawn of politics. She should at least know what she is getting into and be able to keep a clear head.” A slight smirk played around her lips. “And know how to pursue her own pleasures without having to fear - inconvenient consequences.”  
  
Michael laughed. “I have to say, the Archduchess seems like a very lucky girl, to have such a worldly-wise teacher as you.”  
  
She gave him a thoughtful once over. “I think I better head back, before others might think our little talk is indeed a prelude to a marriage proposal. These rumours tend to be so inconvenient and can give people the strangest ideas.” She offered him her gloved hand.  
  
Michael took it and bowed over it. “It has been a pleasure to be able to reacquaint myself with you.”  
  
“Indeed it was. And I hope I will see more of you – at court?”  
  
“An official invitation has not yet been phrased; but I hope it will.”  
  
“I see. I guess that wont be a problem.” She courtside and strode off, back to her charge. Michael followed her with his gaze and watched, while she talked to the young Archduchess, a tall girl that still looked carefree the way she recounted her achievements in archery while looking exited, still able to laugh openly.  
  
+++  
  
The message came a little after noon. There was no big announcement, but again, rumours spread fast. Suddenly all the Emperor’s counsellors gathered around their Emperor. Whispered word spread from there, reaching the other courtiers, that some of the German states, among them several who held the title of prince-elector, had officially declared their allegiance to Napoleon and France. Some had been so bold as to claim lands, that belonged to the Austrian crown, as theirs. And Graf Karl Friedrich had annexed some smaller principalities as well.  
  
“............Fürst Fassbender................”  
  
His name was dropped. His was one of the principalities that had been taken. Was that the reason he was here. Speculation made their way around again, mixed in with the word of war spreading. People were looking at him, but the expressions had changed. Instead of curiosity there now was pity and incomprehension. Some boldly spoke what they would do in his stead. Not leave to have their lands taken but stand and fight.  
  
No-one approached him directly. Soon no-one dared.  
  
Michael’s gaze had darkened and he walked stiffly over to one of the servants to snatch a glass of cognac of a tray. The dark liquid tasted bitter. He downed it nonetheless and took another glass. That in hand he moved to one of the trees at the edge of the park, where the court had spread out in their activities. Away from people looking and whispering.  
  
Until now he had still been Lord of his lands. No one had known otherwise. Of course he and James had suspected that Karl Friedrich von Baden would claim his lands. Michael hadn’t given himself to the illusion that he could go back, but he could ignore the knowledge, focus on what lay ahead.  
Now everyone knew he was a landless Lord, with no power.  
  
At least the new developments would force the Emperor to return to Schönbrunn. The hunt would be cancelled, and everyone could return to the palace or the city.  
  
Michael thought darkly of the effects the events would have? He could only see Graf Cobenzl being less inclined to give him back what was his. Since apparently, it was so easy to take from him. Would Thomas - Duke Hiddleston press James with even more urgency to give up the documents for solely British use?  
  
Michael tried to spot them. Hiddleston was nowhere to be seen, but James stood with a group of men. They all looked grave, while they were talking. Then he finally made out the tall Duke with his mop of angelic gold curls, striding towards James. He excused him from the conversation and dragged him along. They rounded the corner of one of the tents and disappeared from view.  
  
Michael gritted his teeth and tugged at his cravat. It felt stifling. The fabric was wound too tight around his neck, suffocating him. Finally he worked it loose and with a soft growl yanked it free. The long fabric dangled between his fingers. He felt it would only be adequate to drop it to the ground and step on it.  
  
The cravat’s ends, edged with fine lace, were already brushing over the bare earth ground, when he yanked his arm back up and stuffed the cravat into the pocket of his jacket. His fingers brushed along the slim dagger he kept hidden there. The sharp blade nearly cut his fingertips. Careful he dug his hand deeper into his pocket, fingers rubbing along the flat side of the blade. For a moment he closed his eyes.  
  
He hadn’t lost everything.  
  
Finally he drew his hand back and stepped away from the tree. He spotted one of the tables, empty and standing a bit to the side. The place looked like one could stay and wait there in peace. Wait for James to come back from – wherever Thomas had dragged him to. As Michael walked past a group of courtiers he noted the servant in official livery standing amidst them, making an announcement it seemed. “...so his Majesty hopes you will enjoy the change of plans and join him in the night – hunt. The path will be well lit with torches, ...”  
  
Michael didn’t stop to listen, but used the distraction to walk past unnoticed. Reaching the solitary table, he sat down in one of the chairs, his back to the park and the people within. He did not want to invite anyone, who would feel the need to express sympathies for his loss, or who wanted to pry and pick at his wound. He had taken the cognac glass along and now took another sip. There was still some of the dark liquid sloshing against the smooth walls of the glass, as he put it down on the otherwise empty table.  
  
He only looked over his shoulder as he heard horses and the rattle of a carriage. The Emperor was leaving – but without his family. As far as Michael could tell, only his advisors were with him . Riding along was Thomas, and the man Thomas had introduced him and James to earlier, the Ambassador sent by the Tsar.  
  
Thoughtful Michael reached out for his glass, but his fingers only lingered at the rim. They slid along the smooth surface, down to the glass’ thin stem. Absently Michael toyed with it, tilting it from side to side.    
  
While the Emperor and his advisors hurried off to discuss the necessary reaction to the news, they wanted the court to stay put. Probably so not to get in the way, or spread false rumours – or titbits of information that was correct. So this droll idea of a hunt at night must have been an excuse to keep everyone in place.  
  
So he couldn’t really leave. It would look like he was beaten and mortified.  
  
Footsteps were approaching. He still wanted to be left alone but strangely the sound didn’t make him feel annoyed. Instead he felt the sudden urge to smile. Before he could wonder, James slipped into the seat opposite him. He looked Michael over. “Are you all right?”  
  
Michael raised an eyebrow. “Why shouldn’t I be?”  
  
“Well..” James spread his hands and licked his lips. “Sure you have heard the news.”  
  
“So?”  
  
James pressed his lips together. Then shook his head and absently tugging at his cravat. “You really are not – upset? I mean you knew -  we knew, that Graf Karl Friedrich would seize your land as soon as he realised you were gone, but hearing it, might be different.”  
  
“As you say. I knew what would happen. Nothing has changed the outcome.” Irritation seized him, he reached up to his neck to free himself from the stifling cravat only to realise he had already pulled it off. Yet he still felt suffocated by formalities.  
  
James looked doubtful and finally shook his head. “I don’t believe you. I know you are angry or upset, both maybe. It is bothering you!”  
  
Michael leant over the table that formed a barrier between him and James. He reached for James, but he threw a meaningful glance past Michael and leant back, out of reach. Michael gritted his teeth, stifling the urge to throw the table to the side. He wanted James. He wanted to pull him close, bury his face at his shoulder... “What do you suggest I do? Weep? Scream?”  
  
“No, I just want you...”  
  
“Yes, you do.” Michael smirked, but it only made James look annoyed, what gave him an intense expression, that was even more alluring.  
  
Angrily James tugged at his cravat and Michael watched as the knot loosened. James leant closer again, speaking softly but with vehemence. “I want you to tell me what is on your mind.”  
  
“If you insist.” Michael made as to reach for his glass, then moved quickly. His fingers wrapped around the loose end of the cravat, and snatched the annoying piece of clothing from around James’ neck.  
  
First James looked bewildered, then scandalised and his gaze darted around before it settled on Michael. “Stop this.” He held out his hand, as if expecting Michael to hand the cravat back. But Michael only pressed the still warm fabric against his lips, inhaling the faint scent of James that still clung to it.  
  
James actually blushed. “Michael! People might see.”  
  
Damn them. Damn them all. Michael had enough of other people and their thinking, wondering, assuming. “Then I will simply keep it as a token – hidden away.” He stuffed the cravat into his pocket.  
  
James looked seriously angry now, the colour of his blue eyes seemed to darken. It only made Michael want to lean over the table, grab James at the shirt and pull him close into a kiss.  
  
“You can’t simply take away my clothes at an official function.”  
  
“Oh, do you feel naked without your cravat?” Michael taunted.  
  
James pressed his lips together.  
  
Michael would bite at them, push against them with his tongue until James would yield and open his mouth, just a little. That would be enough, so he could worm his tongue into that hot cave, rubbing against James’ tongue with his own.  
  
“You are unreasonable. You make the situation unnecessary complicated and dangerous.” James growled lowly.  
  
“Then why are you the one who threatens to blow the incident of a ‘stolen’ cravat out of proportion, by making a fuss and drawing everyone’s attention to it. I am reasonable. I will give you the chance to redeem it. Right here and now, if you want. You just have to come a little closer.”  
  
James stood up. “I see. It is no use talking to you.  We will continuo this later, when you are capable of thinking with your head again and not...” He threw a meaningful look at Michael’s lap, then turned to walk away.  
  
Michael turned to look after James, his fingers closing around the stolen cravat in his pocket. He called after him. “So what are the plans for the afternoon, with the Emperor headed back to Schönbrunn no doubt – and what is this about a Night-hunt the Emperor wants to stage?”  
  
James stopped, but he didn’t turn towards him. He spoke stiffly and pointedly polite. “We will stay here, with the court. The Emperor and the other Lords will be back before nightfall to join the Night-hunt. It was all decided in a hurry, but the servants are preparing everything now. I have no idea what they will discuss, only that they asked Thomas and the Tsar’s Ambassador to join them.”  
  
“Really? Then what did Thomas have to tell you that no-one else should hear?”  
  
James shook his head. “You are  incredibly unreasonable right now. I refuse to discuss anything further with you as long as you are like that. Once you are ready to listen and talk seriously - well the area is not so big, so you will undoubtedly find me.”  
 _  
Mine – you can’t get away_  
  
Michael felt tempted to say something to that; something he would undoubtedly regret later. “And should you want your cravat back - you know what I want in return.”  
  
With a snort James stalked off.  
  
++  
  
An odd mixture of lethargy and chaos had settled over the park in front of the hunting château. The initial hunt had been planned for the afternoon, so now the bored courtiers had to be kept amused and fed until the night. The servants’ calm masks slipped and they started to look harried, darting around, sometimes rather aimlessly.  
  
The one thing not in short supply were drinks, since those were fetched in a steady stream from the small hunting château. The Emperor’s steward, Fürst von Starhemberg, had stayed back. The old man held court so to speak, in one of the tents and more than once looked rather tempted to get up and do for himself what his younger staff seemed incapable of doing to his satisfaction.  
  
Despite the difficulties they organised a little tournament on horseback, with the participants having to stab at hoops. The courtiers accepted it with grace and soon the meadow was ringing with laughter.  
  
Michael still sat at his isolated table, staring at the long since empty glass.  
  
James still hadn’t returned.  
  
Finally Michael got up. He let his gaze sweep over the place. Not to search out James, he told himself, but simply to make sure what was going on. He felt even less inclined to join the gathering, than he had done before, but apart from his spot he had occupied for the last hour, there seemed no other place to go and not encounter people. Except... His gaze swept over the high trees surrounding the park. There was a wide path leading from the park right into the forest. It passed the hunting château, then slowly climbed uphill and finally disappeared from view between thick tree-trunks and leaf canopy. Even from afar, he could make out servants busy along the path, hurrying back and forth between a cart that slowly went along the path and the path’s edge. So apparently they were getting the torches ready for the evening.  
  
Michael let his gaze travel along the forest’s edge and finally found a trail, not far from where he sat, that led off between the underbrush. Michael did not look back, but just headed over and walked into the forest.  
  
Once inside the forest, surrounded by thick treetrunks and bushes, he did stop and turned around. He felt a pang of disappointment as he only saw the empty path and beyond that vague shapes of colour moving around in the distance. He tried not to dwell on it and walked on.  
  
The sound stayed with him longer. The laughter, shouts and neighing horses. Even the thunder of hooves that sped over the packed earth. But the path wound up a hill and once he reached its top and descended down another slope, even the sound of people grew faint till it disappeared entirely. All that stayed was the rustling of leaves in the wind and birds calling to each other.  
  
Still he walked on - and then there wasn’t even a path anymore. Finally Michael stopped and looked back. The ground was littered with brown leaves, on which the sun and treetops overhead painted an ever changing pattern of light and shade. The longer he looked, the more blurry his vision got.  
  
With a sigh he leant back against a sturdy tree trunk, and closed his eyes.  
  
As he opened them again, his face was wet. Still more tears were running down his cheeks. Half in disbelieve he raised a hand to his face.  
  
Was he really crying? When had been the last time he had cried?  
  
His throat felt tight. He dug in his pocket for a handkerchief but his fingers only found his and James cravat. He wanted to pull his hand out again, but his trembling fingers got entangled with the fabric. He pulled James’ cravat from his pocket. Michael stared at it and slowly sank down onto the dry leaves.  
  
Was James right?  
  
Michael didn’t want to think, but his mind taunted him with images of his estate. Like the reality of the loss was only now sinking in. He tried to close his eyes, to stop the tears from falling. It only made it worse. In the blackness he saw even more clearly what he had lost and the tears kept coming, dropping down onto his hands as he leant forward, curling in on himself.    
  
He felt empty.  
  
 _Not alone – nevermore alone..._  
  
Yes, he still had what was important, really important.  
  
Yet the place where it all ended, and started, was lost to him.  
 _  
Inside us._  
  
The place where he first met James, and saw him return.  
 _  
We have him.  
  
Ours – Always  
_  
It felt like the rasping voice inside him was rubbing all over his skin. He clung to the words, holding them like a shield against the feeling of loss. Michael opened his eyes with a shiver. He stared down at the cravat in his hands, yet found himself unable to focus on it.  
  
Michael sat there, staring and seeing nothing.  
  
Suddenly he heard branches cracking and dry leaves rustling. Michael cursed the unlikely coincident that actually got someone to take the same path and then veer of said path and end up exactly where he had. He had to be quick, slip behind the tree and hope that he hadn’t been spotted yet.  
He looked up, ready to get to his feet and froze.  
  
James’ face appeared at the top of the ridge. James spotted him, a mixture of worry and relieve on his face. Quickly he made his way down to where Michael still sat, caught by surprise. He was a bit to quick, slipping in the loose leaves and sliding down the hillside, fighting for balance.  
  
Michael got to his feet to rush over and help. James tripped and crashed into Michael, holding on to him. They stumbled back a few steps before they found their balance, clinging to each other.  
  
“I’m sorry. That was a rather ungraceful descent.”  
  
“Are you all right?”  
  
“I am.” Concerned James looked up at Michael, let go of him only to touch Michael’s wet face with his fingers. “I was worried about you.”  
  
Michael slid his arms around James, tightening his hold on him. There was a warmth he felt, that not only radiated from James’ body. He took a shaking breath, looking down into the bright blue eyes that were fixed on him, unwavering. “You were right. Hearing it makes it more real - and painful.”  
  
James brushed the tears away with his hand, and it only made new ones run down Michael’s cheeks.  
But he looked into James clear blue eyes and wanted to drown in them. He continued in a rough whisper. “And not being able to pull you close – there – in front of everyone, when I need you. I was able to do that on my lands, that is what makes the loss so great. It still feels like I lost you.”  
  
“I am right here. Because you saved my life... and my sanity. You made sure I didn’t get up every night, chasing shadows, when the fear had crept right into my bones. I know that with your powers you kept me asleep. Maybe it would have been nice to be told, but...”  
  
“I...”  
  
“...but I get the feeling, that your demonic side sometimes has a mind of its own.”  
  
“Yes, in a way. It’s like – it reacts to what I want, without letting me think my actions through.” Michael pressed his lips together. Now. Now would be the opportunity to confess to what else he had done. And then the moment passed.  
  
James smiled. “You were prepared to weather the storm of Napoleon’s forces raging over Europe – alone. I am sure you can we can manage the rigid rules of court to come out on top in the end – and find a place where I can kiss you without having to look around for worrying of prying eyes.”  
  
 _Mine_  
  
Slowly a Michael felt himself relax.  
  
“Because, just so you know. I’m sorely tempted by you too. The way you look at me, makes me remember every part of my body that you touched and kissed and licked...” James voice grew rough and finally he added with a growl. “And then having to hear those Dukes and Counts speculating if they can’t throw one of their daughters at you. Makes me want to grab you and kiss you.”  
  
Michael laughed. “You don’t have to worry. After they heard I have lost my land, they will rethink their plans and focus all their energy in ensnaring a certain English Diplomat.”  
  
“Who has already been claimed by a demon.” James looked like he wanted to add something but then just brushed a kiss against Michael’s lips.  
  
“But they don’t know that and will keep on trying.”  
  
“ Does it matter? Or is that why you chosen to destroy my cravat, so I will look more disrespectful and - barbaric?”  
  
“What?” Confused Michael followed James’ pointed gaze. There at the tree James’ cravat lay forgotten on the ground. He remembered pulling it out, holding it – he must have dropped it as James came rushing down the hill. “I didn’t mean to drop it.” Michael let go of James – reluctantly. Telling himself James wouldn’t leave, they still had some time to themselves. He walked over and bent down to retrieve it. A shadow fell over him and he looked up. James was standing right in front of him. One hand reached out towards him, brushing through his hair.  
  
Michael offered the cravat to James.  
  
A slow smile spread on the red tempting lips. “I didn’t give you anything for it yet.”  
  
James suddenly crowded against Michael and then got down, pushing Michael back to straddle his lap.  
  
“Aren’t you worried someone will see?”  
  
James pushed Michael down and moved to kiss and lick at his throat and neck. Michael smiled, then a low moan escaped his lips as James pushed his hand into Michael’s trousers. “I think right now I’m very willing to take that risk.”  
  
+++  
  
Torches lit the path of packed earth. The flickering lights threw long dancing shadows into the forest, making it impossible to make out even something as big as a stag. Though surely no animal would have been mad enough to get near the procession of nobles on horseback anyway, by the amount of chattering that was going on. But then, the animals weren’t given much choice. On both sides of the path beaters were hidden in the underbrush, having captured game with them, they would release as the riders passed.  
  
Then the night was filled with exited calls and shots being fired.  
  
Michael kept to the back of the whole procession, out of the way of overexcited courtiers. He was surprised that there had only been one non-fatal accident so far, as one of the beaters, being mistaken for an animal, got shot.  
  
James was riding ahead of him together with Thomas. Despite the news of today, the British Ambassador seemed relaxed and pleased. Michael hoped James could find out what the talk at the palace had been and if any important decisions had been made.  
  
 After the Emperor had returned to the hunting château with all his advisors and the two Ambassadors in tow, Thomas had searched them out.  
  
If he hadn’t felt so tense as the taller man approached them, Michael would have teased James for the way he suddenly got concerned with the way his cravat was tied. He had to force himself to look properly at James as he asked him, if his throat was covered properly. He would also have pointed out, that James had started it, forcing Michael to wear his cravat again, lest the purple bruises on his neck would get noticed.  
  
Thomas hadn’t said much. Just smiled conspiratorially and said. “It is going perfect.” He even winked, before he did strike up a more innocent conversation, soon pulling some of the other courtiers in, discussing the best breeds of horses.  
  
Michael still puzzled over what Thomas had meant, when suddenly Graf Cobenzl joined him. “Fürst Fassbender, you are not interested in the hunt.”  
  
Michael had to try hard, to keep any rude comment back. “Not particularly. I prefer smaller hunting parties...with more challenging game.”  
  
“Ah, of course. I am quite with you on this. I rather prefer to hunt boar myself, but that is much to dangerous, especially with the Ladies present. Perhaps another time, you would care to join me?” Graf Cobenzl sounded nonchalant yet eager.  
  
Michael kept his face neutral. “That would be an honour.” He waited. He was sure Cobenzl wanted something from him, why else would he suddenly approach him.  
  
“I do regretted to hear today what Kurfürst Karl Friedrich has done.” The smaller man gave Michael a sideways glance. “But it just comes to show how important it is for us to stop Napoleon, or all that will be left of Europe is one great cake, cut up and divided as Napoleon sees fit.”  
  
“But surely Austria, Russia and Britain will have a combined force great enough to hold Napoleon at bay.”  
  
“Of course. But it is still difficult, with, well it saddens me to say it, but with each country holding its own interest closer than the greater good. I am not talking about small sacrifices, that surely will not influence the outcome... by the way, I just remembered, I had someone look into the matter of your ships...”  
  
Cobenzl seemed to wait for some reaction, so Michael nodded. “That is very kind of you.”  
  
“Well, I simply do what I can. Anyway, the records of the ships impounded in Venice, apparently copies of the records were made, which were brought to Vienna. So I have someone look into the details, and I am sure we can solve this misunderstanding after all.”  
  
Michael smiled, all teeth, not caring how scary he might look, lit sharply by the flickering torchlight. “That is very good news indeed.”  
  
“Yes, it is.” Cobenzl sighed. “It still will take some time and I just hope that then it wont be too late. If only we knew what Napoleon planned for the Italian states. How, when or where he intends to march first and hints of who is secretly in liege with him, we could better oppose him. But... Duke Hiddleston seemed not to favour the idea of sharing the information your good friend Earl McAvoy acquired.”  
  
“That’s unfortunate...” Michael tried to keep the amusement out of his voice. So that was what brought upon the change of mind.  
  
“Oh, it is indeed. Indeed!” Silence fell, as both of them seemed to brood over the grave situation. Cobenzl broke first. “Maybe you could talk to Earl McAvoy and convince him... I mean he said as much that he was in your debt, and really, sharing the crucial information of Napoleon’s plans will do no harm, but the British Crown can only gain from its allies deploying their troops in the best tactical way to stop Napoleon.”  
  
“That is correct. Well, I really think I should talk with Earl McAvoy about this.”  
  
“I can’t tell you how relieved I am to hear that. And I will see that his Majesty is informed of the misunderstanding. The release of your ships needs his approval of course. A mere formality, I am sure he will see your cause. But I think maybe it will be better if you can present your matter yourself. So I took the liberty of preparing an official invitation to court for you. And Earl McAvoy as well, of course. We cannot let our stubborn allies out of our sight, right?” Cobenzl tried to jest, laughing though it sounded a little bit forced.  
  
Still Michael smirked, before he agreed. “Oh yes, yes indeed.” He did not intend to let James out of his sight.  
###  
tbc


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A secret meeting goes wrong, Duke Hiddleston grows suspicious and James worries about a great many things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for putting this story on hold for almost a year. Insecurities about the writing and distractions from other fics led me to not looking at the already 15000 words written for the next chapters. Today a nice Anon on tumblr gave me the right push at the right time that got me to tackle the next chapter.  
> I can't promise that the next updates will come fast or anything. But I will finish this fic!  
> Thank you all who have not yet given up on this fic, or stumble upon it again and decide to continue reading.

The candlelight painted the desk and the sheet of paper in a warm golden brown, while outside everything started to become grey with the setting sun. Michael rolled the wooden pen between his fingers for a moment, before he dipped the steel tip into the inkwell.

 

_To be so close to you every day and not able to touch you is maddening. I know exactly where the rooms given you are, James. I can see them from the window in my bedroom. When I can't sleep I get up at night and look, thinking of you lying in bed asleep. And I imagine caressing your naked body with my gaze, until you feel it as if I were touching you for real-_

_I am so tempted to just walk out my door and cross the corridors and steps till I reach your room, your bed, you!_

 

_But I won't. Because you asked me to be careful, to not risk everything._

 

_So keep me from losing my mind, from constantly thinking of you. I'll be waiting at the fish-basin at 11 o'clock, tonight._

 

Michael stopped writing, looking down at the words. He tipped the end of the pen against his lips, thinking for a moment before he dipped it into the ink once more and added.

 

_Don't allow that I have only my dreams of you when I go to my bed tonight. Give me something real to remember while I fall asleep. I need you James!_

_Michael_

 

The letter was done but Michael had a disconcerting feeling at the back of his mind that suddenly made him want to crumple up the paper and throw it on the ground in shame. His fingers touched the letter, but then he drew them back. The solution lay not in destroying what he had wanted to say, but to add what he needed to. Yet only hesitantly he added.

 

_PS.: Also there is something I need to talk to you about. A confession, so to speak, of something I have done and_

 

A little drop of ink trickled down on the paper, where he let the pen hover over for too long.

 

_I have to ask your approval, or maybe even forgiveness of._

 

For the past days he had known, James needed to be told what Michael had done fired by jealousy... and fear of loosing him. He had made it impossible for James to slip away from him now. He would always know where he was, could always find him now. And he had no idea if he could undo it. _'No!'_ That fierce voice told him, that even if there was a way, the demon in him wouldn't allow it. He shouldn't have done it in the first place. Despite their differences, despite the opportunities James had been given, he had stayed at his side, struggled with him. He should have had faith in James – and now would have to have faith in him to accept what Michael had done.

 

He took the small unadorned sand pot and poured some of its contents over the letter. The fine white sand reminded Michael of a layer of frost covering the paper. He stood up, opened his window and poured the sand out into the grass underneath. Before he closed the window again, he looked up, eyes searching for James' rooms.

 

They were next to those of Duke Hiddleston, who had offered to share his servants with James. And since that had already taken a little relocation of another noble occupying those rooms earlier, Michael had simply been given the next best rooms still unoccupied.

 

Michael didn't mind that their rooms were in the outbuildings, not the palace itself, which was reserved for family members of the emperor and closest in his court. He could come and go to James' rooms as he pleased, and no one was thinking anything of it. But they always had to be wary of the servants and not only Thomas' personal ones. The place was riddled with secret passages, short-cuts and corridors used by the myriad of servants who crawled all over the place like an anthill. You barely did see them. But that made them so dangerous. You never knew if not someone was watching or listening from behind a hidden door.

 

Unlike at his estate – his former estate – the servants would not keep quiet in fear of him. They would not ignore an affair between two men, thinking it the smaller abomination compared to the rumours that he was a demon. And here he could not count on Ferdinand to keep the staff at bay.

 

Carefully Michael folded the dry letter, then went to the door leading to the small room occupied by his valet. Ferdinand was sitting at the small table, sewing a button back on a sleeve.

 

Michael felt a sudden surge of relief. What would he have done without the man, who seemed to accept everything he was. Even when he questioned his decisions, it was always out of concern for him.

 

Ferdinand looked up. “Oh, I'm sorry my Lord. Is there something you would need?”

 

For a moment Michael played with the idea of delivering the letter himself instead, yet that would seem odd – and he was sure he would not be able to simply hand the letter to James and then leave. So he sighed. “Yes, Ferdinand, bring this letter to James.”

 

Ferdinand rose and took the folded piece of paper. “Of course. Do you want me to wait for a reply from him.”

 

“No. That won't be necessary.”

 

Before Ferdinand could leave, Michael called him back. “Ferdinand....”

 

“Yes, your Lordship.”

 

“I never thanked you.”

 

Ferdinand looked a bit confused for a moment.

 

Michael took a deep breath. “Thank you, for never – abandoning me. Whatever I am.. or do...”

 

Ferdinand looked surprisedfor a moment, but then he smiled warmly, nodded and left.

Probably words weren't really necessary.

 

\+ + +

 

James stood at the window, looking out into the night. His fingers played with the letter Michael had sent him. The paper was all rumpled now. He had carried it around since he had got it, tucked into a pocket and frequently pulling it out to read again. Even while playing cards with Thomas and two other Lords his fingers had sneaked into his pocket to feel the paper. He had excused himself from the game early, to make sure he would not be late for the meeting with Michael. The written words made him feel nervous and restless, aching to be touched. He shifted, tugging at his trousers. If only Michael could dare and steal into his rooms at night. _'If I could risk going to his, waking him with kisses...'_ Even if – well he couldn't be certain who would wake first.

 

He had nearly missed the post script and the mention of a confession. It was confusing. There was nothing James could think of, that Michael needed to ask his forgiveness for.

 _'Something he has done..._ ' James thought back of their days here in Vienna, and further back. He frowned. _'Perhaps',_ he mused, _'Michael had put a spell on the forest to make unwary travellers get lost, thus luring me onto his estate.'_ That would be something, he could easily forgive. _'Well perhaps not too easily.'_ There were a few ideas of how Michael should apologise to him, floating around in his head. And all would be perfectly acceptable hidden by the night away from court in the garden. _'Good thing early June nights in Vienna are a lot warmer than in London.'_

 

James leant against the windowsill to better get his face close to the glass. The windows to Michael's rooms were still dark. He had hoped to see him leave for their secret meeting, but no such luck. Perhaps Michael had gone for a walk earlier, planning for it to lead to their arranged meeting point.

 

James felt eager to leave himself. It was still early, yet maybe Michael would be there sooner as well.

 

Since they had been summoned to court, right after the hunt, they hardly had had a chance to be truly alone. Of course James was grateful for finding Thomas here in Vienna on duty as diplomat and for being finally able to make contact with his country again, but – and James felt guilty for that _but_ and all that stoodbehind it. Other matters that needed to be considered. How the gathered information could help Michael, how Michael – now a landless lord – could reclaim some of that power. How he could assure Michael would be coming with him. James felt like his loyalty to his king and country were tested and weighed against what he felt towards Michael.

 

He quickly tried to assure himself that he could stay faithful to both. Wasn't he proving that? Everything was going as planned and the acquired information had been sent to Britain. With Michael's help! They had seen the forger Michael had suggested and Ferdinand had been able to make out. After the duplicates were made they got in touch with one of Thomas' ...spies. The Austrians sure would call him that, though it did not seem an appropriate word. The man had done no spying, merely waited for any messages Thomas would need to have sent back to Britain as swiftly as possible. Those he could not entrust just anyone with. The real spies, James had to admit, where they.

 

Still Thomas seemed doubtful if all this was the right approach. James had told him he was indebted to Michael, for saving him on more than one occasion. Yet he had to face it, the truth was...

 

There was a knock at the door that disrupted his thoughts. “Enter.” James turned away from the window. For a silly moment he thought it might be Michael.

 

Thomas came in and James had to restrain himself from quickly stuffing the letter still clutched in his hands into one of his pockets. He forced himself to calmly fold the piece of paper and put it away. _'I must remember it. Can't have one of the servants find it when they put my jacket away.'_

 

“My valet told me you hadn't gone to bed, so I thought you might fancy a nightcap before retiring.”

 

James threw a quick glance at the clock on the dresser. It was 10:30. Only half an hour until Michael would expect him. “Ah, no, thank you. I think I'll just head out for a short walk. Some fresh air will do me good.”

 

“Ah, splendid idea. Mind if I join you?”

 

 _'Yes, I do mind! Damn it, why did I have to say that. I could have told him I wanted to go to bed. And then he would have sent his valet to help me – and I can barely run out into the night with only dressed in my nightshirt – though Michael might enjoy the surprise of finding me as good as naked waiting for him...'_ James felt heat rushing through his body. He was sure he was blushing.

 

“Ah...” Perhaps he could still distract Thomas. “You know, it's quite a coincident you just came in. I was just thinking about that man of yours, who you gave the documents to yesterday. He seemed a good choice, nondescript, hard to remember. I think no-one will look at him twice. ” James gave a fake laugh. “I think I can't even remember his name.” Actually he never got the man's name in the first place, because Michael had chosen the moment as Thomas had been distracted with introductions, to caress James' leg under the table.

 

“Martin. Yes, he is a good man, really tough and I think he could even beat you at shooting. Only pity is he is only – on loan, so to speak. He is one of Lord-Commander Cumberbatch's man. And he will want him back after the war is over. But lets get you this fresh air you wanted. We can talk more while we walk.”

 

Reluctantly James nodded and followed Thomas out.

 

\+ + +

 

Stars littered the nightly sky above. James and Thomas headed along the garden wall, that kept the private garden of the imperial family separated from the rest.

 

Thomas seemed very sure in finding the way to the gates in the dark. James wondered, if he had come here for some nightly tryst himself. Then Thomas seemed a lot more conscientious. He would not risk diplomatic relations for a nights pleasure. _'Not as stupid and reckless as me.'_

 

“I have talked with Michael this morning.” For a wild moment James though Thomas meant about Michael and him. He was glad about the dark hiding any expression on his face that might betray him. “Everything seems to work out fine with Cobenzl. He told me the Count gave him a positive answer. He found out where his ships are anchored now and who they were assigned to.”

 

“Yes,” James agreed, “though Cobenzl still squirms – verbally that is - whenever Michael tries to get a concession as to when he will get the ships back. He is stalling. At the moment his excuse is, that the upcoming festivities take so much of his time and resources.“

 

Thomas shook his head. “What is he waiting for? Does he hope Napoleon has second thoughts and retreats back to Paris?”

 

“I guess they hope Bavaria will make for a well enough shield once Napoleon attacks, giving them enough time to react and pull their troops together accordingly.”

 

Thomas snorted. “If they wait until Napoleon is on their doorsteps, it will be too late. From what I have observed the Austrian Dukes are more concerned with who will lead the army. There are those that blatantly refuse to let their troops be under any other command than their own. I fear they will squabble over the command and thus end up handing Napoleon the victory on a platter.”

 

James frowned. “One more reason to hope Michael will get his property back, so we can leave.”

 

Keeping silent for a while, they took a path winding between hedges, that lead them to a large flowerbed, with a fountain in it's middle. The fountain was turned off for the night and the water lay still and dark before them. James made his way towards it, hopping over rows of flowers to get to the fountains' edge. He put one foot on it, looking into the water, but the moon's light was too dim. No reflection showed on the dark water's surface.

 

“Do you miss Britain?”

 

James turned to look back at Thomas, who was making his way across the flowerbed more careful, finding the gaps between the planted flowers to get to where James was standing.

 

“Of course I do. Please don't misunderstand, I am glad to have had this opportunity, to be a diplomat.” _'Undiplomatic diplomat'_ Michael still liked to tease him with that, though unlike the first, he no longer felt insulted. Their first encounter - it felt like a lifetime away.

 

Thomas came up beside him, studying his face. “You look pleased with what you achieved.”

 

James felt himself blush. “Well... I can't say I have achieved what was expected. I couldn't lure any of the German Principalities I visited away from Napoleon's grasp.”

 

“But you managed to work with the opportunities presented to you. No one expected you to charm _**all**_ those German Princes into the welcoming arms of the British Empire. Except the King maybe. And some would argue you picked the least important one to ally yourself with, but at least he got you and the crucial information out from under Napoleon's nose and to safety.”

 

James laughed, trying to ignore Thomas phrasing. _'He means nothing by it. Nothing!'_. “If you want to put it like that.”

 

“You remember when I left for the continent? You were spitting curses. You wanted to go somewhere big and exciting and not be sent to some backwater principalities. 'Backwater', quite interesting phrasing coming from someone whose lands are deep in the Scottish Highlands, I must say.”

 

“Oh, Scotland is a civilised place compared to those German forests! A lot less vicious trees trying to block your sight and leading you astray.” They both laughed, but James was thinking of all that he had found. “You are right,” James said softly, “ I wouldn't have wanted to miss this for the world.”

 

From the nearby village a bell tolled. Absent mindedly James counted along; eight, nine, ten, eleven. It was 11 o'clock and they were in a completely 'wrong' part of the garden – and he was not alone! He threw a glance at Thomas. He had no clear idea how to get rid of him. Should he just say outright, that he wanted to be alone for a bit? Wouldn't Thomas grow suspicious, simply know that he was hiding something...

 

Thomas looked at him, questioning. “Is everything alright?”

 

“Yes, only, it is late- or rather, not that late, but it was a long day...”

 

“Of course. Let's head back?”

 

“Mhm...” Reluctantly James turned away from the fountain and made his way back between the flowers, back onto the path. He took a moment to look around. The fish-basin was in the opposite direction from where they were headed. He was late already. If he went back to his rooms and then tried to head out again, he would risk Michael growing impatient and leaving, thinking he wouldn't come. James hated for Michael to think he would stand him up. “Wait.”

 

Thomas stopped, half turning back toward James. “What is it?”

 

James had no real excuse ready, he tried to come up with something – anything plausible. “I think – I saw something.”

 

Confuse Thomas looked around. “Something like what?”

 

“Someone. I mean someone. A shape.”

 

“Probably someone else had the idea to take a nightly stroll.”

 

“Yes, yes probably.” But James stayed rooted to the spot. His mind felt like it was suddenly on a wild hunt, where you didn't know the terrain but just went with it, dodging branches and holding onto the reigns of your horse as an obstacle came into view – ready to jump over it but not knowing where you would land on the other side. “But what if they overheard something we talked about. What if they were even following us on purpose.”

 

“I don't think that very lightly. And if it was someone happening upon us by chance, I doubt they would understand us.” Thomas sounded doubtful.

 

“Still I get this odd feeling. Why don't you head back and I will just – investigate. It probably was nothing, as you said, but” he gave a short laugh. “I guess I have become a little bit wary. I'll sleep better once I know for sure this was only someone heading out on an innocent walk. So Good Night.” He made to walk away, not waiting for Thomas to reply. James hoped, Thomas would have not time enough to think about the flaws in James 'plan'. Following a shortly glimpsed figure along the myriad paths that made up the palace gardens in the dark night. He would apologize in the morning for his abrupt departure.

 

Suddenly there were hurried footsteps coming up behind him on the gravel path. “Wait, James!” Thomas hissed softly from behind him. “I'll come with you, just in case you are right.”

 

 _'Damn it! This meeting is cursed.'_ But there was nothing he could do or say now. He had to go through with his imaginary chase.

At least, if they encountered Michael by the fish-basin, James could claim it was him he had noticed walking through the garden. And Michael would know he didn't stand him up, but...

 

“I see no-one, you sure you saw someone.”

 

“Yes. I suppose chances are slim of catching up with the person but... see the high trees over there. That's the direction I thought them taking. Let's just go there and then head back.”

 

They crossed one of the wide tree lined paths before heading through paths fenced in by hedges that emerged in a circular space. In it's middle stood a basin, that had water trickling from the statue of two wrestling putti.

 

“What a – surprise” The voice had started out sounding warm and pleasant, then became brittle and cold mid-sentence. Thomas was startled, but James turned slowly, trying to think of a way he could convey how this was not how he had planned to make it to their tryst.

 

Michael sat, hidden, on a stone bench under the fir-trees surrounding the fish-basin. The tree's branches, covered thickly in green needles, cast everything in deep shadow.

 

“Who is this?” Thomas sounded weary.

 

“I'm sorry if I startled you.” Michael didn't sound sincere at all. “I hope I did not interrupt any secret plots.” He stood up and came closer. He only wore a shirt, laces hanging open at the front. James' eyes were drawn to the expanse of pale naked chest that he could make out as Michael stepped from the shadows. He bit his lip. He felt punished for Thomas' presence, who he had tried to shake off but couldn't due to his friendly concern. This was not fair!

 

“Michael?! I am sorry, I didn't realise it was you. James just wanted to go for a walk, so I kept him company. If we've had any plotting in mind, we would not have done so without our most important ally.” Thomas grinned genuinely, white teeth flashing in the dark. “I have to admit you have a wicked mind for plots.”

 

Michael gave a mock bow. “Thank you, for holding me in such high regards.”

 

“I hope you are in no doubt of that!” James vehemently cut in. He found Thomas and Michael looking at him curiously.

 

Michael moved closer, capturing James' gaze with his. There was a slight smile playing around his lips. “I am not sure if your whole empire would consider my actions that vital to the war, but I appreciate nevertheless that there are those who appreciate me.”

 

James eyes widened a little. They were not doing this, they were not flirting right in front of Thomas! “You are... appreciated.” He hoped Thomas wouldn't catch his soft reply.

 

Michael put his hand on James' shoulder, squeezing gently. James' gaze wavered between him and Thomas. It would appear odd if he would flinch away from Michael's touch, wouldn't it? They were friends after all. Though he should not lean into the touch. James caught himself, swaying slightly.

 

“I'm sorry. I think I am more tired than I thought.”

 

“Tired? It's not even close to midnight yet. How will you keep up at the upcoming ball then?” Michael teased.

 

 _'You will have to keep me awake.'_ James was tempted to say. But that would not pass as friendly banter. Thomas would see right through it and then... He threw a sideways glance at Thomas, who was watching them curiously. Feeling the weight of Michael's hand on his shoulder more prominently by the second wasn't helping. “I had hoped the night-air would wake me up somewhat... in addition to some company.” He searched Michael's eyes in the dark. “But aren't you cold?”

 

Other than the expression in the eyes, Michael's grin was not to miss, despite the dark. “No. I felt rather hot and thought a little walk would be refreshing. I did not think other people would be about the garden at night, so I did not think much of leaving my rooms, virtually undressed.”

 

James licked his lips. They needed to stop that conversation right now! “If you feel the need for fresh air now, how will you cope the night in the ballroom? Though I guess the garden will always hold some secluded corners, where a gentleman can take off his jacket, without causing scandal for undressing in front of the Ladies.” James meant it as a promise. If they were thwarted of their opportunity now, the ball should provide ample distractions to slip away unseen.

 

Michael drew his hand back from James' shoulder, but he ran it down James' back in a brief caress, as he let it sink. His fingers lingered at James' butt a moment longer. James had to will himself not to react.

 

“James?” Michael's voice was close.

 

James realised he had his eyes closed, feeling the urge to reach out and kiss Michael. _'Insane! Thomas is right there. What am I doing? What am I even thinking?'_ But the thoughts didn't bring him back to his senses as they should have. He felt oddly uncaring all of a sudden. _'I'm done for.'_

 

“You really seem to be falling asleep where you are standing.” Michaels' amused voice brought him back to his senses.

 

With a sigh James opened his eyes again and shook his head, as if trying to shake that fatalistic feel. “You are right. I think I already start dreaming while still wide awake.”

 

“Only good dreams, I hope.” Michael's voice was low.

 

James couldn't help his lips twitching at Michael’s words. The retort was at the tip of his tongue, but then he looked over to the shape in the dark that was Thomas. He couldn't make out his face or his expression. Suddenly James felt chilled. Thomas, hadn't said anything, but obviously watched them. What was he thinking? Had they gone too far. Surely Thomas must have realised something was off between them by now! ' _We are doomed!'_ The odd carelessness he had felt just moments before had drained away rapidly yet James tried to stay calm and act as if there was nothing amiss. “We will see. Let's head back. Or that is, if you wanted to stay outside longer...”

 

Michael shook his head. “I guess I have cooled down enough.”

 

+++

 

James closed the door behind himself. For a moment he stood in his dark salon. Thomas hadn't said anything as they headed back. He had acted normal, talked with Michael and him. Perhaps the night had been dark enough to shade all the flirting looks and suggestive touches. It might have appeared as if they had just been whispering and joking with each other. Nevertheless James cringed at the thought, while at the same time he was tempted to slip out of the rooms and sneak over to Michael's rooms. But any time now one of the servants would show up to light the candles. They might wonder, they might talk, that would lead to questions... He ran a hand through his hair. He had been stupid enough for one night.

 

There was a knock at the door startling James. His heart beat quickly, as if someone had actually caught him with his hand in the cookie-jar - or Michael's trousers. With the thought came a mental image and James blushed, while a spark of lust shot through him. He bit his lips. “Come in.” He tried to sound nonchalant.

 

The door opened. “James..:”

 

James had expected one of the servants. But it was Thomas, poking his head in. James turned. Suddenly he was not so certain that he had escaped scot-free. “Thomas... What is it?” He'd bid him good night mere moments ago.

 

“I am sorry to intrude on you when you wanted to retire for the night, but I couldn't help wondering...” Thomas frowned, troubled. The candelabra in his hand cast dark shadows on his face, making him look even more serious. For a moment it seemed like Thomas wanted to retreat again, but then he stepped into the room and closed the door behind himself. “James, please don't take this the wrong way. I know you said you trusted Michael and as far as I have got to know him, I really cannot find fault in him. He seems to genuinely want to help us – the British Empire. But sometimes I get the odd feeling that there is something about him, that doesn't quite add up.”

 

James felt a sudden chill as panic rose inside him. Of course Thomas had eyes. He knew him, and he was not stupid. Of course he would notice the odd behaviour James was showing towards Michael, the comments, the touches, maybe even realise the recount they had given of them fleeing from Napoleons troupes sure could raise questions too. What if Thomas realised Michael was not what he seemed to be, but something else, what if he had seen through - everything. “Thomas... please.” Please don't judge me. Don't let on about us. Don't condemn me... The words wouldn't come out.

 

“Wait.” Thomas took another step closer. He held his hands up in a soothing gesture. “You said you owe him, that does not mean he – has some kind of hold over you? You can tell me, James. Is he blackmailing you in any way? I got the odd feeling that he – how shall I best put it – hassled you in some way.”

 

“Thomas it is not...” To James it sounded as if Thomas was asking him if Michael – coerced him to have an illicit relationship with him. Or was it his own guilty conscience that made him interpret it that way?

 

“It is not what? You can tell me James, I am here to help you.” Thomas sounded concerned and for a moment James thought to simply confess Surely Thomas would not condemn him for something that was a private matter – as long as he promised to keep it private. He opened his mouth to speak and the stopped himself before any sound could come out. That was it, private. And as long as he kept it that way he and Michael would be safe, but as soon as he admitted to it, he risked more than Michael did with his hidden touches. He could not even be sure, that nobody else was listening in right now.

 

James tried to laugh. “You have to believe me. There is nothing to worry about. Neither are we scheming in any way – except for what you already know about – nor is Michael - holding a sword over my head and coercing me to do his bidding.”

 

Unconvinced Thomas gave him a scrutinizing look. “I am sorry, but it just is – strange.”

 

“What is?” James felt jittery, but tried not to show it. He would have to stay stoic and fake ignorance to whatever Thomas was suspecting or rather half suspecting. He would rather change the topic entirely, but it was important he disperse any suspicions right now. As long as Thomas had no real proof, he might be able to dissuade him from sending his thoughts in that direction ever again. If he could make him feel embarrassed to have even thought it. James already hated himself from having to do this. He turned his expression in one of shocked disbelief. “Thomas, whatever are you trying to imply?”

 

Thomas looked almost miserable. “I do not want to imply anything. I only wanted to ask you, because your behaviour – I simply got the impression that there is something not right between the two of you.”

 

“I still don't … I hope I understand you wrongly.” James lied smoothly, while his heart beat so fast he was sure Thomas would notice in some way.

 

“Are you; is he doing anything... untoward.” It looked like it didn't come easy to Thomas, to make the accusations.

 

There was a rushing sound in his ears, he felt going hot and cold and hot again. “Thomas, I believe I don't even want to think about what you are suggesting.” he balled his hands to fists to stop them from trembling, hoping Thomas would see it as a sign of rage, not guilt, should he notice.

 

Thomas shook his head and looked away. “I am sorry! I should not have... Sorry to have disturbed you. I didn't mean to keep you from sleeping. I think I mistook the meaning of – If you say everything is well, I believe you of course. Good Night.” Thomas only looked up once shortly, too ashamed or embarrassed, as he retreated to the door.

 

James felt almost sick with guilt and relieve “Thank you – and should there be some trouble, you can be assured, I would come to you for help. Good night.” He took a deep shaky breath after Thomas had closed the door. He just stood there, staring into nothingness, hoping that this was the last time Thomas would ever steer his questions in that direction again – because James wasn't sure he could lie like this a second time.

 

Impatiently, he pulled his jacket off and dropped it on a chair he passed on the way to his bedroom. His waistcoat and shirt followed. He finally stood in front of the empty bed, naked chest heaving. With a frustrated huff he punched the pillow. It didn't offer any resistance, just lay there unimpressed. James gritted his teeth and let himself fall face first into the soft blankets. He just lay there for a moment until the need for air made him roll onto his back.

 

He wished he was lying like this on Michael's bed now. Able to tell him about Thomas suspicions and then have Michael distract him with kisses, while his hands roamed over his naked chest, down his belly, to his trousers. James let his eyes drift shut, running his hands over his naked chest, imagining it being Michael's hands.

 

Michael's fingertips teasing his nipples.

 

Sharply James breathed in. the sound seemed loud in the dark room, arousing him even more. He imagined Michael's lips taking the place of his fingers while his hands moved further down, to fumble with the buttons of his trousers.

 

James tugged impatiently at one, working the buttons open, not bothering with undressing fully, but wrapping his hand around his aroused cock. He started stroking himself slowly. He imagined Michael heading for his rooms, opening the doors without knocking, finding James on the bed, pleasuring himself. He could almost feel the intense gaze directed at him, roaming his body and it made him squirm.

 

Yet what if Michael were watching, yet he wouldn't notice, to ensnared in his own pleasure to notice Michael enter the room in the first place. How naughty he must look, still wearing his boots, the flap of his trousers hanging open to reveal his hand grasping his cock. The thought of Michael seeing him like that made him blush and he bit down on his lower lip to stop the soft whimper escaping his mouth.

 

He imagined Michael finally stepping close to the bed, so he would notice his presence, yet not touching him, just smiling down at him, pleased to find him thus, aroused and craving to be touched by him.

 

“Please!” James moaned aloud. But Michael would shake his head and give him a sultry smile, just wanting to watch. James arched up from the bed, offering his body, begging.

 

Michael would make as if to bend down to touch him, lured in by the sight, but then he would stop and draw back again, just out of reach. But to show James how much he was enjoying the sight, his hand would reach down and press against his own bulging erection, rubbing it through the fabric of his trousers.

 

James squeezed his hand around his cock, rubbing the tip of his thumb over the tip. “Michael...”

His hips bucked up, thrusting against his hand.

 

Finally Michael would give in and join him on the bed. He'd grasp his cock with his hand. The weight and heat of Michael's body as he leant in close felt almost real.

 

“Come for me.” He could almost hear Michael's voice, rough and dark, whispering against his ear.

 

The words pushed him over the edge and he came, still moaned Michael's name.

 

+++

 

Michael sank back onto the carpet, gasping for breath while the orgasm was washing through him. His vision was still a blur and he felt confused at the pleasure/pain he experienced. Finally the dizziness was dispersing and he pushed himself up into a sitting position. Cringing he noticed the front of his pants glistening still wet with blood, where he had palmed himself through the fabric of his trousers. He looked at his hand. The cut was gone again. It should have hurt as he used his cut hand to rub over his crotch, but all he had felt was pleasure.

 

He only had wanted to check up on James, after having been denied the secret meeting in the park. He had not thought he would find him in such an enticing position, half-naked on his bed, stroking himself to orgasm. The sight alone had been arousing, the little moans and gasps he had made simply delicious. That moment he had decided to just look, savour the sight. But when James had moaned Michael's name, he no longer was able to resist, he had had to get closer, to touch James, urging him to come. He and the demon both. Vaguely he wondered if James had noticed his presence, he was sure he had heard him though. But he hadn't been able to linger and make sure James knew that he had watched, for his own orgasm had dragged him back into his body. He hadn't realised till now that it could happen like that.

 

Nevertheless, this was not how he had anticipated for this night to end, even if it was a small consolation for being denied the real touch of James' mouth and body. At the ball – they would have their opportunity there!

  
Michael stared up into the dark ceiling. He couldn't quite push from his mind though, that there was still a confession he had to make.


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A night of dancing and music at the ball. Surprising encounters, good and bad. Michael tries to catch James for a moment alone, but it is harder than he thought, with people everywhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the comments on me updating this fic again. Really spurred me on to put my teeth in and work on this, though I am kinda shocked how large this chapter has grown. Hope you enjoy.

 

 

Five hundred candles flickered on huge chandeliers and tall candelabras. The light reflected in mirrors set in the wall on one side of the great hall. They mimicked the windows opposite perfectly, making the ballroom appear even more grand and spacious. The walls were decorated with intricate gilded stucco that held the charm of last centuries fashion. Yet the ivory coloured walls were polished in a way to make them look like pure marble, giving it at least some hint of modern elegance. 

 

But in the end it all was just the setting where the court could finally present itself, see and be seen maybe even get introduced to someone who could not be approached otherwise. Music, chatter, laughter it all mixed to a cacophony of sound that filled the large room.

 

Michael stood with his back against one of the walls, close to an open window, where he was able to catch a fresh breeze, that barely managed to penetrate any further into the hall. Sometimes someone wearing a heavy perfume would brush by so close, that not even the night-air could safe him and he was hard pressed not to wrinkle his nose in obvious distaste. Sometimes a woman would glance his way, a dance-card hopefully clasped in between gloved fingers, but he made sure not to return the gaze and draw any unwanted attention.

 

James on the other hand seemed unable to stand still. 

 

“It's a ball. You are supposed to dance.” With a grin he had been off to randomly ask one of the waiting women for the next country-dance.

 

Michael was content to watch. James seemed to constantly have a smile playing on his lips that appeared even more red than usual. Begging to be kissed and licked. ' _Soon!_ ' Michael promised himself. Soon he would whisk James away, somewhere away from prying eyes. But for now he was content to watch as James elegantly weaved half a figure of eight with his partner through their current contra-pair, before he reached his place in the line. James gave his partner a little nod and then with an elegant twirl cast down to get to his place down the line in time to the music. 

 

Not all dancers were as perfect in their timing. Some moved too fast, standing awkwardly in their places before they could move again in the next pattern of the dance. And some were too slow, stumbling through the steps – at one time he caught sight of a harassed looking little Lady, running down the set to join her partner. But not so James. He seemed to never stand still, always moving, even when he wasn't, ready to take his next step in the dance. 

 

His cheeks glowed hot and his skin was shimmering with a slight sheen of sweat, yet he didn't look exhausted, just very much alive. 

 

Michael sipped at his glass. Only as no liquid touched his tongue, did he notice it was already empty.

 

**xxxxxxxxxxx**

 

“You do not dance?”

 

Michael was startled out of his thoughts by a familiar voice at his side. He gave a courteous half-bow. “Fürstin Schwarzenberg-Ulfeldt, a pleasure to see you again.” She was wearing a dress of yellow muslin, with embroidery in gold thread along the neckline. The train of her dress was tugged up neatly, so no-one could step on it. “And indeed I do not.”

 

“A pity. What good is it coming to a ball if you do not dance. I remember you dancing the whole night through once.” She put the tip of her fan against her lips looking wistful for a moment.

 

Michael noticed there was no dance-card dangling from her gloved left wrist. “Even when one does not dance, a ball is an opportunity to see and be seen. And it looks like you do not intend to dance either, or have you lost your dance-card?”

 

“Indeed I have. What a pity. It happened early on, after it was filled with a partner for every dance too. Alas I must confine myself to not dancing with any of the men who had written in it, to make sure not to make the mistake of giving one a dance he had not reserved, thus offending the one who did. But seeing as you had not put your name in it, it would be safe if you were to ask me to dance.”

 

Michael hid a smile. “What a pity then, that I do not intend to dance tonight.”

 

“They will even play 'Mr. Beveridge's Maggot', as I recall, it was one of your favourites?”

 

Michael raised an eyebrow. “I am surprised it didn't go out of fashion yet.” He hoped he would get to see James dance it though.

 

She laughed. “Oh, I hope it never does. Anyway, change comes slowly at this court, if it ever does.” 

 

Michael shook his head. “But even then, I do not intend to dance. Despite your number of dance-partners being limited due to your loss, I'm sure I was not the only one who not wrote in your dance card, yet would be acceptable and willing to dance with you.” He lowered his voice conspiratorially, “Or is there someone you need to escape from immediately?”

 

She sighed, gave her surroundings a quick glance before she leant a little closer. “There is some – rumour about you, circulated in certain salons.”

 

Michael's smile froze and he tensed. “What rumour?” It was common knowledge he lost his land, he didn't think it was worth hiding what his real intentions here were, and that information would hardly inspire rumours the court would be interested in. That only left... He stopped himself before his gaze could search out James.

 

Fürstin Schwarzenberg-Ulfeldt smiled. “Now I can hardly keep standing here to discuss it.” She put her hand out, smiling innocently. “But of course I will dance with you.” Michael took the offered hand. He needed to know what that rumour entailed, and of course she was right, standing here chatting, while everyone passing could overhear them would not do. Decidedly he moved with her through the crowd to the edge of the space cleared for the dancers, waiting for the current dance to end. 

 

They didn't have to wait long. The next dance was called out and the musicians played the first phrase, while dancers rearranged themselves. Some left the dance-floor, others came back with new partners. After he had taken up position in the newly formed line, Michael let his gaze sweep. For a brief moment he caught James' gaze, who looked surprised. After all Michael had told him he wouldn't dance and he could see the curious look James gave Michael's partner. He frowned, but then both their attentions were drawn back to their respective partners, as the dance began.

 

He realised it had indeed been some time, since he'd had the opportunity to dance and neither did he remember the figures nor had he paid much attention as the dancing master had called out the sequence of the dance. But he was lucky, Fürstin Schwarzenberg-Ulfeldt showed mercy on him and was quick to discreetly point them out to him. 

 

By the time they reached the end of the line, Michael found he was actually enjoying himself. But there had been a reason for him to agree to dance. He stepped closer to his dance partner. “Those rumours...” he prompted.

 

She smiled. “I hope you will not storm off right after I tell you.”

 

“No need to worry, as I recall I have never given you need to complain about my manners.”

 

She hid her laugh behind her fan, then fanned herself, and he wondered if he had managed to faze her – a little. “Some people have noted that you didn't visit mass or sought out a priest since you were here. Not even on Ascension Day, or Whitsun. Some started to speculate, if you have turned protestant to curry favour with the other German Principalities, and are really here in their name to spy out the Hapsburg's emperors weakness.”

 

Michael felt oddly relieved and snorted amused. “Really? What a stupid idea. How do they think I would win the Emperors trust. I haven't had an audience with him. And how would my British allies come into play with this?”

 

“All a ruse, the rumours say. They reason you have lost your land and want it back – and the only one who can give it back to you at the moment is not the Austrian Emperor. So you will do everything for those you can reinstate you. And though you haven't dealt with Emperor Franz personally, you _have_ been meeting up with Graf Cobenzl, that is close enough to make some people nervous.”

 

“I spoke to him about – well it is a matter of personal chattels that have been misplaced. But nothing of political consequences.” Half true, but he didn't know if he could trust her with more, despite her apparently being on his side.

 

They had to stop talking, as it was their turn join the dance again. Lost in thoughts Michael was only half paying attention to what he was doing and the new set of dancers that ended up beside them as they moved down the set. He had hoped him missing out on church would go unnoticed, with all the courtiers buzzing around court, how could they be aware of the absence or presence of one person. After the novelty did wear off, he thought he would not be paid much attention too. He changed place with his partner. “And do you think those rumours are true?”

 

She only looked a little exasperate and shook her head. Absently Michael turned away from the line and held out his hand for the man beside him. A hand grasped his a little more tightly. Startled he looked to his side to find James smiling at him. “You seem distracted.” Michael felt the energetic spring in James' step through their clasped hands as they lead out from the line before turning back. “Where you flirting?”

 

“What?” 

 

James squeezed his hand once more before letting go with a little nudge to turn away from him and Michael realised he had to move up the set - away from James. He nearly stumbled through the figures with the new couple he and Fürstin Schwarzenberg-Uhlfelt were dancing with. Was James joking or was he – maybe – jealous?

 

“Bad news?” His dance-partner asked at the next opportunity.

 

“No, why?”

 

“For a moment there you looked as if Britain had just declared the end to your allegiance.” 

 

Michael shook his head. ”James - Earl McAvoy simply tried to pull my leg.” She looked questioning for a moment, but Michael didn't elaborate. 

 

As they reached the other end of the line and had to wait their turn before they could start dancing down the line again, Fürstin Schwarzenber-Uhlfelt moved closer to him again. “I do not mean to spy on you. I simply thought you might be unaware of the talk and perhaps would like to know. There are others speculating though - that you lost your faith in god, after the loss of your estate. That you are like a restless soul, doomed to wander...”

 

Michael gritted his teeth. “It is none of their business.”

 

She raised an eyebrow in rebuke. “I fear the Archbishop very much thinks it is his business. He is... how shall I put it...”

 

Michael frowned. “It is not my intention to discuss my faith or lack thereof with him.”

 

“You might not...” But the sentence was cut short as it was their turn again.

 

“You might not have a say in this. He seems to have a curious interest in you.” Was all she managed to say to him, in the short moments they met during the dance. Finally the music stopped, but before Michael could move to the Fürstin's side, a young noble dashed forward, throwing him a short nervous glance before bowing in front of Fürsting Schwarzenberg-Uhlfelt, requesting the next dance and assuring her she had promised it to him. 

 

Michael frowned at the man's impoliteness and moved to stand at the Fürstin's side. She was still his dance partner after all and it was bad etiquette trying to ask a Lady to dance that already had a partner. He glowered at the man, a slight sneer tugging at his lips as he wanted to comment on his manners. 

 

“I am sorry but I feel a bit exhausted and I will sit out the next dances. Fürst Fassbender...” She looked expectantly at him. He offered her his arm and led her back into the crowd, brushing past the young man who looked after them but had the decency not to follow.

 

“I would not have minded dancing some more.”

 

“And that after you protesting so much. But you flatter me, should I have managed to change your mind. Still, it is for the best. I have to take care of my reputation.”

 

“And you mean to say, dancing with me would bring you ruin?”

 

“Dancing with one partner more than one dance might lead to speculation unnecessarily spread bothersome rumours.” 

 

“Then I will make sure that you will not be seen in my company more than would be appropriate. Just one thing. About the Archbishop's … interest in me.”

 

“I am sorry. I do not know more. Just that he asked about you. But he wouldn't tell why, nor have I heard anyone mention it.”

 

Michael nodded. “Nevertheless. Thank you.” Michael bent down to kiss her hand. As he looked up, she had actually blushed. “I hope we will see each other again.” For a moment the memory of their first meeting came back to him rather clearly. She had changed from that innocent girl, yet was no less alluring. But he realised the attraction lay only in his memories. He smiled, let go of her hand and left. There was really only one temptation in this ballroom he craved to succumb to.

 

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

 

Michael found James was still dancing, apparently tireless. He pondered how best to intercept James when the current dance was over. He watched him move down the row with his dance partner, a girl with blonde curls wearing a green silk dress. She seemed to be giggling a lot.

 

“Fürst Fassbender.” 

 

Michael turned toward the man addressing him, half annoyed to be robbed of his chance to watch James some more.

 

He nearly flinched back. 

 

The Archbishop stood in front of him, in purple vestment, with a fat golden cross hanging around his neck. Michael felt his belly churn. 

 

He tried to focus on the man's face. It was gaunt, with a fleeing chin and a narrow nose. He looked to be over 70 years old yet he still stood tall and straight, slightly taller than Michael himself.

 

“We haven't yet been introduced. I am Archbishop von Hohenwart.”

 

Michael's gaze flickered to the cross again. “It is an honour to meet you. Though – I cannot help wonder how you know my name, since we haven't been introduced.” His throat felt dry and it was like the words he forced out were turning to ash in his mouth. 

 

“The court may be big but nevertheless I try to keep stock of all the comings and goings. Like a good shepherd should.” He was soft-spoken, yet the voice set Michael's teeth on edge. 

 

_' **Get away from him, get away from him, get away from him.'**_

 

I have heard what has happened to you. May I offer my deepest regret, for your loss of your principality. 

Some might think it a small loss, but believe me, I know, every inch Napoleon manages to edge further into Europe weighs thrice. It's like the devil itself got hold of the lands.”

 

“Thank you.” He pressed out between clenched teeth.

 

Michael had his hands balled to fists to stop himself from – he wasn't entirely certain what. 

 

“I am sorry. You have turned pale. I did not mean to evoke bad memories, not when we are at a festive event.” The Archbishop leant forward, the cross dangling freely in front of him. Michael could feel the heat radiating from it.

 

A high-pitched screeching was now ringing in his ears. _ **'Run, kill, run...'**_

 

Sweat trickled down the back of his neck. He couldn't stop himself but looked down. The cross was glowing, burning...

 

“Perhaps you would consider coming to talk...”

 

Michael flinched at the voice that cracked down like a whip. His whole body felt the sting.

 

“Michael, there you are!” James suddenly grabbed him from behind, pulling him back. “Oh, I'm sorry... Verzeihung, Eure Exzelenz. Aber mein Freund hier hat versprechen einer von diesen wunderhübschen Damen den nächsten Tanz.”

 

Michael took a shaking breath. James had inserted himself between him and the Archbishop, shielding him. And he had not come alone, but had two young Ladies in tow. The one in the green dress he had been dancing with earlier and another wearing a dress in blood red. It was like he could taste the colour in his mouth as an aftermath of the Archbishops close proximity. Both Ladies giggled and courtesied in front of the Archbishop.

 

“Ihr werdet auch.... what is it, agree... ah, sagen, er kann nicht sein Wort brechen.” James continued cheerful. His German had gotten better but Michael suddenly felt the urge to laugh at the odd yet highly enthusiastic way James spoke. Laugh and scream. He could hold back, yet still an odd huff escaped him. It sounded like the gasp for air of someone drowning. He still needed to get further away.

 

“Of course. You should not keep the young ladies waiting. Still I hope you will come to me so we can talk.”

 

The urge to run was overwhelming as the Archbishop addressed him again, yet Michael somehow managed to take only a small controlled step back. He looked at the young Ladies. Anything but the burning cross. The one in the green dress curtsied coyly and held out her hand. He offered his arm to her, yet it felt as if he was clinging to her like some lifeline – he followed her, step by step away from the pain and madness... then he could think clear enough again to remember such things like manners and how important it was to keep up appearance. He turned back to the Archbishop who was still looking at him, frowning and waiting for an answer. “Thank you.” The words came out hollow. “I do not see why though. I have come to terms with my fate.” From the new won distance he could see now that the cross was not really burning. It was only the candlelight that made the gold shine and glint. “You'll excuse me.”

 

The Archbishop frowned. “Really, you do not know why I might wish to talk to you? I knew your father. He wrote to me, to ask for advice on a strange matter ...”

 

Michael nearly stopped, but the music had already started and the girl was tugging at his arm. He tried to ignore the Archbishop's words, acting as if he hadn't heard, yet his mind was filled with a whirlwind of questions. _'A strange matter? Could it be – what else could it be? Why him? Did my father know him? What did my father tell him? Does he believe in demons? What does he know?'_ He wanted to whirl around and shake the answers out of the man, but all he could do was join the already formed line with his dance-partner.

 

“Are you alright?” James, standing beside him, was leaning close. He looked concerned.

 

Michael nodded, really not entirely certain if he actually was. “Have you heard – understood what he said?”

 

“No, I'm sorry. I just saw you there, and...” But before James could continue he, had to get on with the dance. 

 

Michael tried to calm down. He should at least look like he was enjoying himself, after all his dance partner had obviously agreed to lie and rescue him from the Archbishop. He looked over at the young Lady and offered a half-hearted smile. Suddenly James was beside him again, taking hold of his unresisting hand and leading him through their two dance-partners standing opposite them. “...you looked like you needed to be rescued. By the way, may I introduce you to Countess Antonia von Harrach.” James squeezed his hand quickly before they had to part again and Michael had to take his dance-partners hand. 

 

“Countess, it is a pleasure that you honour me with this dance.”

 

She giggled, hiding this behind her hand. “Earl McAvoy said we had to rescue you, or you might die of boredom.” 

 

If only she knew.

 

 

**xxxxxxxxx**

 

As the dance ended he escorted the young Countess back to her chaperon. He quickly bid his farewell and tried to catch sight of James. For a moment he caught a glimpse of him near the other end of the room and made to head in that direction, keeping an eye out for the Archbishop as well. He did not want to run into him again.

 

_'Your father wrote me asking advice on a strange matter.'_ The words haunted him. Feigning ignorance would do him no good, when the man's appearance, his cross, his words made him loose control. He noticed the mere thought made his hands tremble. He needed to talk to James – now.

 

Michael tried to get another glimpse of him, but he seemed to have lost James from sight. Frowning, he weaved through the crowd of people, his gaze searching for a mop of brown hair and startling blue eyes,sure he could not miss him. He only stopped as he reached the end of the ballroom. Frowning he looked back into the mass of people. It was a sea of swirling colours, but nowhere could he make out the right combination of dark velvet jacket that seemed to shimmer green in the candlelight and dark waistcoat underneath that held just a hint of purple.

 

Not far off he saw someone else though. The familiar mop of blonde curls, towering over a flock of Ladies young and old, hanging on Thomas' lips as he was talking animatedly. He hoped to see James somewhere close, but no such luck. At least he knew that Thomas hadn't dragged James out into the garden for a stroll - again. Michael still felt irritated, when he thought about their thwarted meeting. 

 

Michael was close to the double doors now and people were brushing past him to either head into, or out of the ballroom. He felt the press of bodies against him like a tidal wave. Finally he gave in and let the current draw him out towards the wide staircase. Windows had been opened here, letting in the fresh night air, that made the flames on the candelabras splutter and move frantically.

 

Slowly he walked down the wide staircase. He wasn't sure he would find James by wandering around, but he didn't want to stand still waiting either. The light grew dimmer, just a few lamps were lit here on the ground floor. 

Finally Michael stopped and looked around. He was right underneath the ballroom, in the great entrance hall of the palace. He could dimly hear the sounds from above, music, chatter... but no-one seemed to have come down here. Through the large iron wrought gates, that closed the archways to the main courtyard on one side and the garden on the other, he could make out shapes and sometimes the warm shimmer of colours, silk and velvet, illuminated by the torches planted in the gardens. Of course, people who had enough of dancing and music would head out into the palace grounds, where they would be undisturbed from prying eyes. 

 

His fingers twitched. The gardens, the only place he could hope to speak to James freely, but first he had to find him. Yet for a moment Michael felt reluctant to leave the comforting dark and solitude. He wished for James to be here already so he could pull him into a shadowed corner for a kiss, thanking him for coming to his rescue. Slowly he took in his surroundings once more, looking for deeper shadows hiding in the dark imagining, hoping without reason to find James hidden here somewhere. They should have agreed on a place to meet up. _'I could easily find him.'_ But his control had been tested by the encounter with the Archbishop and it had nearly slipped. Michael shied back from the idea and slowly turned his back to the dark hall.

 

 

 

Walking back up the wide staircase, Michael suddenly felt goosebumps rise all over his body. Someone was watching him and for a wild moment he feared it was the Archbishop. If he went down, the man would follow and there would be no escape and no-one to see if he snapped his neck. Michael slowed his steps, stopped, then turned and looked up.

 

James looked directly down at him, watching him ascend. 

 

His gaze felt like a cool balm, calming him. Michael couldn't see the bright colour of James' eyes, as he was looking down at him, yet it was like he could feel their clear blue colour washing over him like cold springwater.

 

Michael tried to compel James with a look, so he would stay right where he was until he could reach him. 

 

James threw a glance to one side, then looked down at him again. He raised his glass to his lips and drank, the red liquid staining his lips for a moment. Lips that turned up at the corners in an impish smile, before a pink tongue darted out to lick the drops of wine away. Leaving the lips still looking wet and enticing.

 

Michael was unable to move, but watched as James tilted his head slightly to one side, as if inviting him to follow.

 

Follow? Where to?

 

James put the glass down on the balustrade in front of him and turned to head off to the right.

 

Michael had to force himself not to run but climb the stairs in a measured pace without appearing to be in a hurry.

 

He guessed James would head for the gardens, but once he reached the stairs upper landing, it was clear, the way James had taken only lead deeper into the palace, away from where the outer stairs led down to the palace grounds. 

 

But that look – it had been clear James had wanted him to follow. Michael passed the first door, trying hard not to look around searching, but appear as if he knew exactly where he was going. An elderly couple passed him. He soon realised the rooms he was walking through, were part of the official ceremonial salons. He passed couches and chairs. Some were occupied by guests taking a small break from the excitement, noise and the oppressing scent of candles, perfumes and heat of a ball night. But none of them were James.

 

Michael frowned slightly. He passed another empty room and then came to a closed door. Clearly the part open for the guests tonight ended here. But where had James disappeared to? Slowly Michael turned around. He was certain he hadn't missed him sitting on any of the chairs and sofas, as well as that he could not have taken any other way to the palace grounds. So perhaps James had gone outside, or back to the ballroom, and he had mistaken the direction from where he had been standing on the stairs.

 

He gave a frustrated sigh. It was like he was constantly chasing the man these days, with James just out of his grasp – and when he was in his reach there were other people present he was not allowed to touch. He turned to leave. As he was about to exit the room, he caught movement from the edge of his vision.

Michael stopped to look, then sighed disappointed as it was only the drawn curtains billowing in the draught. 

 

Perhaps he would glimpse James somewhere outside from a window up here. 

 

He reached out to tug the heavy fabric away, as suddenly a hand shot out between the curtain's folds. It grabbed him at the arm and pulled him forward. The curtain obscured his vision for a moment, his hand got entangled in the folds as he wanted to grab his attacker. Next thing he knew he was in the wide window niche, hands grabbing his shoulder and pushing him against the wall.

 

He looked into mischievous blue eyes sparkling up at him. “ I feared I would have to resort to yelling to catch your attention.”

 

“Sometimes you are...” But then Michael decided that talking wasn't really a priority. There was James, pressing his body against his and they were hidden from the world surrounding them by heavy drapes and an empty room. He buried his hand in James' hair and pulled him closer into an open-mouthed kiss. James tasted of wine and the heat of the night, a delicious mix.

 

James' hands were rubbing against his shoulders and chest. “What? Am what?”

 

“...wonderfully reckless.” Michael cupped James' face with his hands. “Thank you for saving me back there in the ballroom.” He kissed James again, licking and suckling at his lips as he had wanted to do the whole evening.

 

James wrapped his arms around Michael. “Was it as bad as it looked?”

 

Michael leant back a little with a sigh. He put his hands on James' shoulders.“Do I want to know how bad it looked?”

 

“You were deathly pale. Eyes wide, like you would either faint any moment or attack the Archbishop.”

 

Michael sagged against the wall, only James' arms securely around him stopped him from sliding to the ground. “That's about how I felt. He knows something. He told me he knew my father. That he asked him for advice on something – strange.”

 

“You mean, about you?”

 

“What else could he mean. I don't think – either my father was not very precise in what he told him. Or he doesn't believe in demons existing. Or at least not on earth.”

 

“But he does believe in God. The way you reacted to him. Or was it just what he said? And the cross. You kept looking at it.”

 

“That cursed cross.” Michael shivered. “It was burning. I was sure he would burn me, that the flames would leap over if it so much as brushed against my skin.” He shook his head, he couldn't remember a reaction that severe.

 

“He will wear it all the time during mass. It probably is even older than he is, connected to the office of Archbishop of Vienna. No wonder it must seem - “ James sighed. “I guess unholy is NOT the right description.”

 

Michael managed a small laugh. His fingers played with the ends of James' cravat, tugging gently. “Would you mind, if I took that off you.” He wanted to feel more of James and bury his face at his neck.

 

There was still concern in James' eyes but he smiled. “What did you think I had in mind, when I pulled you into this secluded alcove, perfectly hidden from view?”

 

“I have no idea what proper English diplomats do in secluded alcoves. A demonstration will be in order, I guess.” He straightened, so he could loosen the cravat from James' neck. Just as it dropped to the ground, James did so too, dropping down on his knees in front of him. Michael blinked surprised, but only for a moment, as James' hands were working the buttons of Michael's trousers loose right away. 

 

With a throaty chuckle Michael reach out to brush his fingers through James' hair. “Taking me by surprise twice now...”

 

James' fingers felt cool against his hot skin as he shoved his shirt out of the way, pulling it to one side so he could hold on to Michael's hip and the shirt with one hand. The free hand he wrapped around Michael's cock.

 

Michael gave a little moan, then tried to press his lips together. They were still inside the palace, with nothing but a curtain between themselves and anyone who might come into the room – at any time. He managed to stifle the moan as James' tongue lapped along his shaft before he slowly took him in his mouth. Michael's fingers tightened in James' hair. James' mouth was hot and wet, he really had to restrain himself from trying to push his cock deeper into it but let James play it at his own speed. He wasn't sure how long he could restrain himself from thrusting forward, when James moved back enough so Michael's cock slipped from his mouth. His breath brushed against the sensitive tip, making Michael breath in with a low hiss. “James, please. Not exactly the place for teasing...” Michael whispered hoarsely looking down at James who met his gaze directly while his red lips curved into a indecent smile. 

The sight made Michael moan and he closed his eyes to collect himself.

 

Using his hands on Michael's jacket James pulled himself up, consciously pressing his body against him as he slid up, not caring that by rubbing against Michael's erection that way he would stain his waistcoat and trousers with saliva and pre-come. 

 

He but one finger against Michael's trembling lips. “You have to control yourself and make no sound.” James whispered.

 

Michael nodded, licking over James' finger and capturing it with his teeth, gently.

 

James' eyes held a wicked sparkle. “If you would prefer, I could use my cravat to gag you.”

 

A surprised chuckle escape Michael. “What has gotten into you?”

 

James raised an eyebrow and licked his lips. “You have gone to my head. And not being able to touch you... or even just talk to you. It makes me think what I want and what I am willing to risk for you. I want to steal as many moments with you as possible and I want to make sure you don't forget them.”

 

Michael felt his breath taken away for a completely different reason all of a sudden.

 

As Michael didn't say anything a blush was slowly creeping over James' cheeks. “I am sorry if this sounds...what I meant to say...”

 

“Hush... “This time Michael put his finger against James' lips. “Nothing could make me forget them. You have no idea how much I want you. What I would do for you.” He pulled him closer and replaced his finger with his mouth. 

 

James returned the kiss then gave an embarrassed smile yet kept looking at him. “Killing an entire squadron, giving up your estate...” James swallowed, “I think I got a very good impression of that. I just want you to know – even if it may not always look like it – I'm willing to put just as much on the line. And at the same time, I won't to something that could mean the risk of loosing you” James moved his hips, giving his hand enough space to slip between their bodies and wrap it around Michael's erection.

 

Michael inhaled sharply. And James' confession was just as intoxicating as his hand, squeezing and rubbing gently. Michael leant in for another kiss, making sure he would not be able to moan the James' name aloud as he stroked him to orgasm.

 

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

 

It was rather messy, despite James trying to clean himself and Michael using both their handkerchiefs.

“I think I need of some cold air now.” 

 

Michael had his head buried at James' neck, stifling the sound of his harsh breathing against the heated skin. It wasn't fair. Practically they were both still fully clothed, yet Michael felt completely unravelled. And James looked the same, his hair ruffled, lips red and swollen from Michael sucking and biting them – his bare neck showed some more marks.

 

“Yes. Let's head out into the garden,somewhere where it is remote and dark.” Pleased Michael felt a shiver run through James' body, as he whispered close by his ear. “Where no one will comment on how indecently you are dressed when I take more than your cravat off.”

 

James buried his fingers in Michael's hair and Michael let him pull his head away, only so he could dive in for a crushing kiss. James seemed just as needy as him.

 

“Are you sure you cannot sleep in my bed tonight?”

 

James bit his lips, but shook his head. “Don't tempt me! That would be too much of a - stupid - risk. This is bad enough.” Bracing himself against the wall beside Michael, James tried to straighten up. 

 

But Michael didn't want to let him go. Not yet. He tightened his hold on James and pulled him closer, relishing in the feel of the others body against his. “It was your idea to lure me behind these curtains.”

 

James stifle a chuckle. “I miss your estate.” Suddenly he sobered. “I am sorry, this is not really something I should say so carelessly.”

 

Michael slowly shook his head. “No, that is... “

 

James rubbed his hand over his face. “I nearly told Thomas – that night in the garden. Our foiled – tryst at the fountain.”

 

Michael frowned. “What?” Despite coming to appreciate Thomas he really would rather not hear his name right now.

 

“I didn't – Thomas was asking me questions after we returned. He is growing suspicious. I don't think he knows what is really going on. But he suspects that something isn't quite as it appears. And I was tired about all that playing hide and seek and remembering just how easy things were at your place.” James brushed his fingers against Michael's cheek. “I want to have that again.”

 

How could he tell James he would not settle for less, without it sounding like he would not want to stay with James otherwise. “You fear it won't be possible?”

 

“Clearly we cannot go back. And I don't live as remote, nor do I strike fear into my servants by having – unearthly powers whatsoever.”

 

“I cannot tell you it will be easy, because I don't know the situation we will be in then. I have to admit I haven't thought much further than getting to England – with you. I have no idea what I will do... I mean I am a landless Lord, with nothing but my name.” It still stung, despite saying it himself. 

 

“With the ships you could fully rely on trade, I guess.”

 

“A trader? The scandal! Wouldn't that be even worse?” Michael said it half mocking half in jest, yet James looked worried. 

 

“I don't want you to leave – me.” The words came out as a half strangled whisper, yet Michael could hear them clearly enough. 

 

Slowly he reached out for James' hand and entwined his fingers with James' own. “I will not leave. And I don't want to let you out of my sight. I don't want to loose you out of my sight, ever again.” Michael brushed his lips against the pulse in James' wrist, then took a deep breath. “Actually, I have done something that will make...”

 

Suddenly there was a sound, voices and laughter that were drawing closer. Too close to be ignored. Both men froze, hidden only behind the suddenly very unsubstantial seeming fabric of the curtain. James put the fingers of his free hand against Michael's lips, even though Michael had already stopped speaking. Slowly James leant closer, whispering against Michael's ear. “We should get out.”

 

Michael only nodded then quickly tugged in his shirt and buttoned up his trousers. Then he checked the smaller man's appearance. He bent down to pick up the discarded cravat and tied it around James' neck again. After he was done, James gave him a questioning look.

 

Michael let his gaze travel over James' whole appearance. He reached out to straighten James' cravat, then brushed over his hair, making it look less like someone had grabbed it. His fingers lingered for a moment. James smiled at him, then made to slip out between the curtains, as suddenly two women entered the room, chatting amiably. James drew back, face gone pale. He shot a look of sudden panic in Michael's direction. Michael held up his hand, listening intently. There was the distinct sound of rustling of fabric and one of the women sighed. “My feet hurt from all the dancing. It was a mistake to wear the new shoes.”

 

“But they look so pretty...”

 

“They didn't stop some men from trampling on my feet...”

 

Michael threw a look at the half open window, reached out and slowly eased it fully open. It was dark outside, the torches and lamps were illuminating the area around the main staircase into the garden, leaving the area underneath their window bathed in darkness. 

 

He examined the wall to both sides. James suddenly grasped his shoulder, trying to pull him back.”What are you doing?” The words were not more than a whispered hiss.

 

Michael smiled confidently, then leaned close to James so he could whisper against his ear. “If we both suddenly appear from behind the curtains, it will look awfully suspicious. So you will simply slip out, excusing yourself to the two ladies. I will climb down.”

 

James shook his head. He drew back, looking at Michael, before he leant closer to whisper. “No. What if you fall down? You can break your bloody neck!”

 

Michael wrapped his arms around James to keep him from moving away again. “You forget I have experience in falling. I'll be all right.”

 

James still looked unconvinced. “Wait. What if someone sees you.”

 

The chatter from the room suddenly stopped. “Have you heard that?”

 

“What?”

 

“Hush! I think I heard someone. Listen!”

 

Quickly Michael let go of James, pressed a finger against his lips and started to climb out of the window.

 

There was a wide ledge a good half meter underneath the window, running along the wall. He stepped onto that, then carefully edged over to the half-column, going down the wall. By his guess it should be some five meters down to the ground. A bit too high to safely jump into the gravel underneath. His gaze caught sight of the balcony with its iron wrought railing. That should give him a better hand hold. 

 

Only as he reached it did he looked back. He could make out James leaning out of the window, watching him intently, biting his lip. Then he suddenly seemed to get distracted by something behind him. He quickly disappeared from the window, closing it.

 

Michael focused on climbing down. The descent from the balcony was actually quite easy. The lower wall had been built so it looked like made of giant blocks of stone. There was enough space between each one to give purchase for fingers and his booted feet. 

 

Finally on the ground he moved along the wall away from the window, then stopped before he reached the well lit part surrounding the outside staircase. He leant against the wall, catching his breath and watched the staircase, waiting for James.

 

It didn't take long. He could make out someone walking hurriedly down the stairs, shoving past the people lingering there. Michael smiled as he watched him stop at the foot of the stairs,apparently just now realising that he might be drawing attention. Slowly though he made to drift in the direction of the window Michael had descended from. Then he suddenly stopped as he saw no-one there and cast his gaze about. Michael took a careful step out of the shadows of the wall. James nearly made a dash for him before he caught himself and proceeded in a leisurely yet fast walk.

 

“Are you all right?” James sounded a little out of breath as he reached him. Michael pulled him closer, back into the dark shadows and kissed him. James gave a startled yelp but then melted against him. “Not right here! They can see us from the stairs.” He whispered softly against Michael's lips as they parted.

 

“Then lets go, because I want to do more than just kiss you and I don't feel I can wait much longer.”

 

They headed out into the gardens, away from the lights and well trodden paths. After they passed the first wide path and the palace disappeared from view, high hedges taking its place, James reached for Michael's hand. “We should avoid the maze and the rosary.”

 

“Don't worry. I know just the place.” Michael gripped James' hand in return.

 

“Have you been exploring the garden without me?” James asked in mock-affront.

 

“I was given no other choice. You are so busy socialising. Even when you are not invited, Thomas drags you to one of those little gatherings.”

 

“He invited you too. But you refused most of them.”

 

“I had no interest listening to some snobbish courtiers so full of themselves they would not see reason even if you would hit them with it.”

 

“That is terribly prejudiced. They are not... well not all of them...” James concede, than gave up with a sigh. “Some are not, and make for rather pleasant company.”

 

Michael stopped abruptly and James nearly stumbled. Michael held his hand tight, jerking him closer, so James had to brace himself against Michael's shoulder not to loose his balance. “Michael, careful. It's dark and I don't have your uncanny eyesight...”

 

“You're all the good company I care for.” He pulled James closer. “And if you can't see me clearly enough, I would suggest, that you touch me instead.”

 

James gave a little content sigh and shifted his weight, leaning against Michael. Their foreheads touched. Michael took a deep content breath, inhaling James' scent.

 

James' fingers loosened the cravat around Michael's neck and his hand slipped under the fabric to clasp Michael's neck, his fingers lightly caressing the soft skin there. James' warm lips brushed against Michael's as suddenly a sound from the hedges let James draw back. He looked nervously down the wide dark path they were standing in. 

 

Michael looked too, but couldn't see or hear anything more. “It probably was just a squirrel or bird... But let's get to somewhere more secluded. It's not much farther.” Michael lead James along the wide path, that was overgrown by the hedges, making it dark and not easy to see into. Suddenly there was an opening to the hedge on the left and Michael veered in there. Rows of hedges pressed in from both sides, leaving a path just wide enough that they could walk side by side. It curved away from where they had come from and then suddenly widened a little. In the thus formed niche stood a stone bench, but due to the curve of the path and framing hedges, it was only visible at the last moment before one passed it. 

 

Michael sat down, straddling the bench. James considered a moment but Michael quickly made the decision for him, puling him down so James' back rested against his chest. “This is where I would love to stay the night.” James untied his cravat and before the discarded fabric touched the ground, Michael's mouth was on James' neck, making James mewl contently. He tilted his head to one side, giving Michael better access. 

 

Michael's fingers undid the buttons of James' waistcoat. Next was the lacing of his shirt, James shivered as Michael's cool fingers slid over his naked chest. “Your fingers are cold.” He protested softly. Reluctantly Michael made to draw back his hand, but James stopped him, his hand atop Michael's holding it in place. “Just be careful where you touch me – but I don't mind warming them up for you.” 

 

“You are perfect.”

 

James laughed. “Hardly.”

 

“Perfect to me.”

 

James didn't protest to that and as Michael moved forward to get a glimpse of James' face he saw a tender smile on his lips. James squeezed his hand, than pulled it up to press it against his cheek.

 

“I don't want to let go of you.”

 

James let his head sink back. “You don't have to.”

 

“I might not be able to.” Michael's heart picked up speed as he plunged ahead before he could think better of making this confession. “You remember, the first time we visited the palace. Afterwards, back at the hotel you came into my rooms and found the demon part in charge. And then something happened and I told you I didn't know what.” Michael had to stop for a moment, though he really wanted to continue. To make sure he said it all now.

 

He felt James shift against him, but his body stayed relaxed. “Yes...” The affirmation held a question. 

 

“I didn't know right then when I woke up, but I realised what I had done, later in the night. I didn't know it was possible, I didn't know I could do something like it.” Michael closed his eyes. “I made sure I could find you – always.”

 

For a moment James didn't say anything. “Find me?” He sounded curious, not angry but maybe he hadn't realised yet what that meant.

 

Michael took a deep breath. “Like when I killed the squadron, I can stretch my sight, look further then were I physically am and also touch – or kill at a distance. But my reach is limited. When you left to get back to your diplomatic duties, I tried … but you were out of my reach so quickly. Now... I have created a link, one that allows me to always know where you are, even if an ocean is between us. I can always find you, probably even touch you.”

 

James went still against him and Michael waited tense, listening to James' breathing. “Why now? Why did you not do that earlier when – when we travelled, when there was a real danger of something happening and us getting separated?” 

 

“I never thought it was possible for me to do that.”

 

“What made it possible now?”

 

Michael took a deep breath, thinking how to answer best and truthfully. “Because I asked for it. Because I feared you would leave me... “

 

“Because of Thomas? The discussion we had about how best to proceed and – you thought I might abandon you since I no longer needed you?” There was a small edge creeping into James' voice.

 

“He seemed able to offer you all you wanted.”

 

James snorted and suddenly detached himself from Michael who felt his throat go dry. Though there was a small voice telling him to stop him, he didn't try to hold him back. James turned around, so he was kneeling on the bench, looking straight at Michael. “Don't... don't ever think I would simply abandon you.” 

 

“I tried to reason with myself but you looked so excited... I could see you slip away...”

 

“So you made sure I couldn't – you always know where I am now?” James started to sound uncertain.

 

“I have not used the link. As I said I wasn't aware of what I was doing there. I do not know if I could undo it if you asked me to but I can choose not to use it. I might be more aware of you now... and honestly, I don't regret it. I am glad to know I can find you if something happens to you.”

 

James suddenly reached out for him. The gestured startled Michael and only as James had his hands in his second jacket pocket did he realise that he was searching for something. “What are you...”

 

James pulled out the small dagger Michael carried with him even here at court. He swallowed nervously but looked determined nevertheless. “Let me talk to him – he seemed to know very well what he was doing after all.”

 

Michael gripped James hand holding the dagger. James frowned as if he believed Michael would try and take it from him, but Michael merely held his hand steady before he gripped the sharp blade with his left and let the steel blade bite deeply into his flesh. On edge for half the night his demon part was quick to respond. The moon and stars suddenly seemed brighter, he could clearly see James in front of him, hear the rushing of blood through his veins. He noticed how his pupils were blown wide to see in the dark, then he felt himself pushed back. ' _Tell him the truth. We can't hold him... if he doesn't want to stay... don't try and make him.'_

 

xxx

It happened so fast James was startled even though he knew what to expect. White seeming unseeing eyes were staring at him and the hand, Michael's hand, still had a tight hold on his hand holding the dagger. It might have even tightened a bit. 

 

“ _ **This is not how we hoped this would go – finally alone. Though we can always come into your bedroom at night, watching you touch yourself, if you prefer that.”**_

 

James felt himself blush. “What are you saying – you, Michael, I thought he never used the link!” James pressed his lips together. This was not what he had hoped to hear.

 

Michael, the demon, chuckled. _**“We didn't need the link for that, we knew were you were and close at that. We just wanted to look, but what a nice surprise we did find. The link merely made you more – sensitive to our presence.”**_

 

So him fantasizing of Michael watching him – had not only been that. But at least it didn't mean Michael had just outright lied to him right now about using the link. He tried to collect himself. “What did you think to achieve?”

 

“ _ **Stop the pain.”**_

 

Confused James shook his head. “I don't understand.” 

 

“ _ **Of loosing you. The emptiness we would have fallen into... “**_

 

James' mouth felt dry. “What if I choose to leave.”

 

Now the grip on James hand tightened painfully and the demon drew him close. _**“Mine!”**_ It was almost a snarl, though then he seemed to calm down. _**“He tells me I would have to let you go...”**_

 

Involuntarily James' gaze was drawn to the dagger. “Could you stop me?”

 

“ _ **I could. But you would get hurt.”**_ The white eyes seemed to focus on the dagger and slowly Michael let go of James' hand. The rough voice was almost soft and gentle sounding. _**“We don't want to hurt you. Rather hurt myself.”**_

 

They sat in silence, and James worried for a moment that the demon would slip away again, but he just sat there, eyes wide, unmoving, his hands resting in front of him, one pale one still slowly oozing blood from the cut. James tried to take it all in. “If you had told me what you were doing – I think I would have agreed to it on my own.” As scary as that realisation was, he had to admit to it. He put the dagger down onto the bench, but before he could draw back his hand Michael took it and pulled it close to his face. 

 

“ _ **Don't leave us – please.”**_ He pressed a kiss to James' wrist. The touch sent a jolt through James that made him wonder if the demon was only using his mouth or toying with him in other ways too. 

 

“I did regret the first time I left. I don't think I could do it again. - What are you doing?” He realised he was distracted as the demon held his gaze while he didn't stop caressing his wrist with his moth. The demons breath was hot against the sensitive skin and then he felt his tongue flick over his skin shortly.

 

“ _ **You did? That is – good.”**_ Then he chuckled and James could feel the sound vibrating against his skin, sending a shiver along his arm that seemed to go straight to his cock. _**“Do you want me to stop?”**_

 

“I want Michael to know I will not leave. That he is mine.”

 

“ _ **Mhmmm... I like it when you say that. All yours - then we will continue this another time.”**_

 

xxx

 

 

Michael looked up into the dark sky – and James' face. He turned his head, realising it rested on James' lap. “How long...?”

 

“Not long. I want you to know, if you had asked me, I probably would have agreed to you forming this – link. If I could, perhaps I would have wanted to do this too.”

 

Michael blinked dazed and tried to sit up. James helped him sit up and slid in behind him, steadying him. “And you are still here.”

 

“I am. And I won't leave.” James' arms slid around him, holding him tight. “I wont leave what's mine.”

 

Michael laughed, feeling suddenly light headed, he sank back against James. “ All yours...” The knowledge was like a soothing echo running all through his body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations  
> “Michael, there you are!” James suddenly grabbed him from behind, pulling him back. “Oh, I'm sorry... Verzeihung, Eure Exzelenz. Aber mein Freund hier hat versprechen einer von diesen wunderhübschen Damen den nächsten Tanz.” = Excuse me, Your Excellency. But my frined here has promised one of these beautiful Ladies the next dance."
> 
> “Ihr werdet auch.... what is it, agree... ah, sagen, er kann nicht sein Wort brechen.” James continued cheerful. = You will also .... ah, say, that he can't break his word."


End file.
